Epiphany on Epiphany

On the road south to Egypt,

with the baby nursed into

a milk-coma and tucked from

sight of eyes that mustn’t see

a holy child on the lam,

(though why the divine father

in the trinity of parents didn’t

think to douse the astral light

before the not-so-wise men

appeared and asked a king

known for slaughtering his

own sons where they might find

the boy who would usurp him

is a theodicean mystery)

did the human parents hear

the screams of mothers who

couldn’t hide their sons

from the heavenly spotlight

or the soldiers’ blades?

Were there not enough

angels to go around?

It would be years before

they could return, the king

dead and all those childless

women long lost to madness.

© Dana Hughes 2.10.18

One thought on “Epiphany on Epiphany

  1. I didn’t leave this comment on your FB page, because I saw that the matter was already becoming controverted, and I didn’t want to pour fuel on that fire. But I want to say that what really compels me about this poem is its unwillingness to let “God”–or whatever ultimate reality lurks behind that semantic construct–off the hook for the bloodshed then and now. Thanks for being bold enough to say it.

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