Someone asked me this morning if I ever wrote for children... Over the years, yes, absolutely. I used to write curricular poetry for students about everything from Newton's laws of motion to punctuation marks and many things in between. Then there's the little tiny woman who lives in my pocket...though, granted, I've never actually written down those stories...only told them. The story of the woman who was visited by the wind...Thanksgiving poems written to be performed... Yes, I have written for children.
There was something, though, about the timing of this morning's conversation...
I came back upstairs to my room and instead of working on translations, this came forth...
Look at their bags and boxes.
What do they see in the distance?
under the sway of a star?
Though I don’t know what to offer.
Tell me the story, Kings!
Mother, Father, and a humble
a child come a-wailing
upon this Earth
to be for us God-with-us, Immanuel.
We travel with incense, myrrh, and gold
And what of you, now that we’ve told?
I looked at them from where I stood,
squared my shoulders and took down my hood.
“I have my drum. I’d like to come.
And I will play along the way
and I will play when we arrive
and I will play for Love alive.