I received word this morning that another one had been killed
during a heated day before
that sacred Holy Night.
In quiet contemplation they gathered round,
grieving the loss,
examining what it means to be brave.
Fall on your knees.
Despite the spirit’s groan
searching for words that have no words,
the heart felt a certain gladness hearing about
the babe born in a manger.
Hear the angel voices.
Looking to the sky, listening to chopped air,
they flew closer to the heavens.
Warrior brothers. Burning eyes search to see the star,
paused to consider
an ancient time and place when men, traveling from afar,
were drawn to the One who will save, no matter what.