Prophets
by Anne Porter
Once in the Advent season
When I was walking down
A narrow street
I met a flock of children
Who all came running up to me
Saying that they were prophets
And for a penny they
Would prophesy
I gave them each a penny
They started out
By rummaging in trash-cans
Until they found
A ragged piece of silk
It’s blue, they said
Blue is a holy color
Blue is the color that
The mountains are
When they are far away
They laid the rag
On a small fire
Of newspaper and shavings
And burned it in the street
They scraped up all the ashes
And with them decorated
Each other’s faces
Then they ran back to me
And stood
In a circle ‘round me
We stood that way
In a solemn silence
Until
One of the children spoke
It was the prophecy!
He said that long before
The pear tree blossoms
Or sparrows in the hedges
Begin to sing
A Child will be our King.
6 comments:
So beautiful the image of children being the prophets which I think is so true and also that the prophesy comes out of the ashes. Christ comes not in splendor but in lowliness and a reminder that this is our call too, to be the refuse of the world, to quote St. Paul. Peace to you on this day.
And PS. I was having issues this morning, could you delete the first 2 links. The 3rd is my actual post for today. Sorry and thank you.
Wow! What a sweet poem! Yes, we need to be willing to be, as Beth already said, the refuse of the world, in order to win it for Christ. I read Matthew 1-3 this morning and was hit again with the fact that in Christ´s genealogy, there are people who the world would NEVER consider worthy to be there! But God....!
Beeeaaauuuttiful. What a perfect, perfect poem for Advent. Thank you for sharing this. It encouraged me!
Beautiful poem. Love that it is not really sentimental, and yet....
great Advent poem! I really enjoyed it - and everyone's comments.
~Michelle
That is a beautiful poem. Thank you, Kris. A blessed Advent to you!
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