Poems for Advent: Week 1
Little mother most blessed
Greatly learned in sorrow
Though you have suffered on your road
You yet remained an innocent
But you shall die
A sword will pierce you
(Little one, lie quietly—the bleeding is not stopped)
Will pierce your soul
(Yes, yes, child, the baby lives)
And you shall find no healing,
Unless earth should void its stomach or
The tombs disgorge their dead.
Elizabeth Johnston is a reference librarian in West Virginia who spends her evenings working toward a master’s degree in history. She has been published in the Anthology of Appalachian Writers. In her free time, she enjoys coffee. Lots of coffee.