There was a Bristling in the Air

By Vincent R. Pozon

INTRO:

This poem looks at the Nativity not as comfort, but as disturbance—something felt first by power, later understood by the poor. What enters the world here is not gentleness alone, but consequence.

It was palpable in palaces and in hovels,
unnamed, expected by only a few,
the hair on the arm of the signet-ringed
stood on ends, his throne shimmied and creaked,

ay, the mighty slept twitchily that night,
the wise whispered, and then made ready.
A wraith requiring obeisance hushed herds,
subdued swarms, becalmed packs and prides.

The poor, out in pasture, living gaunt,
looked up and saw a sky ablaze,
and though with knotted brows, hearts heard.
A child was born, a revolution had begun.