Annunciation
Virgin hears crash.
Lightning flashes
She bolts up, jaw agape,
Book falling.
The winged envoy kneels
announcing
“Hail, favored one!
The Lord is with you!”
Favored, how?
And why?
Only a teen
Eating bread and pigeons.
Living in hut—no Herodian palace.
Yet
The Almighty sees her.
Knows her.
Calls her
Blessed.
But this task!
She clenches fist.
He is with her.
Resolve rises.
Who is like the Lord?
Has anyone precedent for this?
Still, she determines to trust
the impossible.
Because all His ways are just.
Because the spoken word comes with blaze
And sound of waves.
She inhales scent of honeysuckle
and nods.
A child this winter.
“May this thing you have said
Come true in me.”
She thinks
Not my will,
But God’s.
Ruach overshadows,
Hovering as when the spoken word brought matter.
Someday she will know
that the one bringing travail
himself birthed the universe.