Christmas Poem: The Shepherds

Our final poem! Revd Andrew read The Shepherd on Christmas Day as the fifth advent candle was lit.

Bartolomé Esteban Murillo (1617–1682), The Adoration of the Shepherds

The Shepherd

After the angels had gone

The night was still shaking with light.

We stood there —

hands smelling of wool and weather,

hearts hammering like hooves.

Who were we

that heaven should speak to us?

Men without learning,

men without standing —

yet called by name

to find a child

wrapped not in rank or riches

but in the same rough cloth

we used for lambing.

And when we saw him

the world grew quiet,

as if the sky itself

was holding its breath.

Light had come.

Small. Fragile.

But more real than our fear.

We went back to our sheep

with glory in our mouths.