This morning I read the poem below in an Advent devotional I receive from Biola University. What I heard was the one voice of the savior crying out after a long period of silence. Just like this one bright leaf standing out amongst all the rest.
What We Heard on Christmas Day
with a line from Longfellow
by Julie L. Moore
Silence like early morning, like indigo
deepening at the bottom of the sea.
For hundreds of years.
No voice to say this is the way.
Or tomorrow, he comes. They raised
their questions, rose each morning, found
no answers. Unless you count
Wait. But after the hush
of prophecy, the long line of law,
exile centuries ago just a bitter aftertaste
in their empty mouths, sting
of dust on their ribs dulled, almost imperceptible,
a baby wailed. And if you listened close,
you knew your ears did not deceive you.
He had entered the ebony tomb
of Earth, loosening at last his long-held tongue,
the star a halo of song blaring overhead,
God is not dead, nor doth He sleep.