Mary

She pulled her shawl tighter around her
A mother should never have to outlive her child
There at the beginning and the end

She thought about her ex
A gentle man, good with his hands
Who never questioned her unexpected pregnancy
There’s nothing more working class, he’d laughed
Than giving birth in a barn

She pulled her shawl tighter around her
And remembered the starlight
The smell of fresh hay
And the warm comfort of the animals
On the night he was born
 

Joseph

I’d have made a better job of that manger
He looked over his newborn son
One day, when he’s older
I’ll teach him to saw straight and nail true
To value form as much as function
And be a master of his craft

But it wasn’t to be

They didn’t survive the recriminations
Could they have kept him from the temple
Who put those revolutionary ideas in his head

He thought about her in the starlight
The smell of fresh hay
And the warm comfort of the animals
On the night he was born