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From Rev. J. Michael Cadaret

A poem by Rowan Williams, former Archbishop of Canterbury.


He will come like last leaf’s fall.

One night when the November wind

has flayed the trees to the bone, and earth

wakes choking on the mould,

the soft shroud’s folding.


He will come like the frost.

One morning when the shrinking earth

opens on mist, to find itself

arrested in the net

of alien sword-set beauty.


He will come like the dark.

One evening when the bursting red

December sun draws up the sheet

and penny-masks its eye to yield

the star-snowed fields of sky.


He will come, will come,

will come like crying in the night,

like blood, like breaking,

as the earth writhes to toss him free.

He will come like a child.