Past the flight and the circumcision
Still following the star
The baby is only a receptacle of light
That grows and ripens
While the mother sits for her portraits
Pondering death in her heart
Sealed from the child but not us
By love’s gaze
While in the background
The red hibiscus goes on blooming
Letting memory paint it too
As if a little of Christmas
Could be carried forward
Into every future new
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