The Bethlehem Angel.(New Version).

The plaster falls away,
And gradually,
Like a butterfly emerging from the chrysalis,
The gold angel is glimpsed
Shimmering in the dusty gloom,
A burnished icon,
A cleansed mirror touched by the morning sun
For the first time since Byzantium was crushed.

The clouds of dust that speck the summer air
Shape a curtain adrift between two worlds
A millennium apart
But linked by a common, timeless language,
Sung in daily prayers.
Outside the church the soldiers stride in pairs
Oblivious to the miracle taking place
Behind the battered doors.
Armed sons of Abraham, of tortured Isaac,
Patrolling where the sacred Lamb was born.

Indeed it truly is a perfect miracle
That the angel should return in this dark time
Of bitter conflict in the streets outside
Between related cultures.
Muslim and Christian children shot and maimed
While playing in the dust that Joseph trod
When guiding Mary to her bed of straw.

The archaeologist cleans the angel`s head,
A mosaic presence glistening through the gloom
Of incense heavy air
That fills the nave enriched by echoing chants.
And as we stand in awe of this rare icon
Of hope restored, of trust, of infinite grace,
It seems the angelic face reveals our wonder
To reflect back to us who we really are.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
May 30th. - 31st. 2016.(New Version).
Radically revised March 8th. 2017.