The First Sunday of Christmas: Wings and Tings by Kareem Parkins Brown

The angel clears its throat,
opens up its mouth, 
then many more angels start falling out.
It’s like if airplane doors opened up mid-flight.

I stuck my staff into the dirt and then I held on tight.
Now the angels are singing - praising the creator.
I’m trying not to leave the earth prematurely, 
I’m telling myself I have to keep my original shape.
Despite the wind I must remain upright,
lest my herd mistake me for a staff.

Now when that angel first appeared I thought it was a tree on fire,
another shepherd thought some lightning had struck.
A few herders were shocked and fell to the ground 
but they had a soft landing.

Another shepherd keeps his mouth open, 
hoping to catch a blessing via osmosis.
Another shepherd only takes deep breaths 
because they did not know when they would get to breath next.
Another thought they may get chosen to be an angel if they behaved well.

The angel clears its throat,
the voice that leaves the angel is a lion on a dragon,
a soft hand on a cheek,
it is sand in the eyes and between the toes.

They announced, 
“we come to you sheep herders 
announcing a change in the meaning of royalty, 
announcing Jehovah’s do-over, a name change. 
He will be born in dirt so he can learn to rid the earth of it. 

Shepherds must be the first ones to visit 
for the saviour will be a shepherd before anything else. 
And when the saviour’s disciples are born, 
they too will be visited by fishermen.” 

We raced to Bethlehem, 
not knowing what or who we are racing, 
but we know that if we don’t get there first, 
the result will be fatal. 

The first visitors gotta be the outcasts,
the last must be first so the prophecy can be true. 
And Mary lets us sheep herders see her baby.

And we communicate via telepathy, 
swapping details of our angels, 
and how great God is. 
And Mary’s constantly finding more space in her heart for more truth.

And sheep herders, we praised god, 
for everything was just how the angels said it would be.