The Sign

The Sign

You will find Him wrapped in swaddling clothes
Wrapped in flesh
Wrapped in blood
Wrapped in bone
Wrapped in the calloused hands of a carpenter’s son
Wrapped in scandal
Wrapped in genocide
Wrapped in poverty
You will find Him

You will find Him lying in a manger
Lying in stench
Lying in sweat
Lying in forgotten places 
Lying in a disheveled heap on the street corner
Lying in newspapers
Lying in garbage
Lying in urine
You will find Him

You will find Him
Wrapped in swollen bellies
Aching for food
Wrapped in wrinkled hands
Clinging to subway seats 
Wrapped in dimpled skin
Shivering, exposed
Wrapped in flesh
Wrapped in blood
Wrapped in bone

And this will be a sign to you
You will find Him

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