from The Birth of Christ

The Bethlehem road was real. Her heavy body
forced on the slow too-swift way between
successive darknesses. But she knew nothing.
Day was a dream of infinite toil: night was
- limbs loosed from outrage, the thick excitement
mounting in her for the imminent birth,
and the vague nightmare of the journey: all
faded into the insistent life
already more intense than hers. [...]

Read Full Post »