The stars shone down on a woman

As she wearily marched in the way,

A baby inside her weighted her steps

When she went to lie down by the hay.

The pain of the labor was starting

As the world started grinding around

While the stars, free from pain, watched the groaning old earth

As they blinked in their unshaken crowns.


Where was heaven when our world was failing?

– – –

He was born in the shadow of death.

While the sick were alone, he suffered – and mourned –

And stood with them till his final breath.

The host that gives life to the spirit

Was placed where the cattle had fed,

And the crown of the stars, cast aside for our thorns,

Was reforged when the heavens had bled.


So the shelter where Mary had rested

Saw the birth of the voyaging king,

And the word that she carried for all humankind

Carried us to our home, where she sings –

To our home by the sheep and the shepherd,

Where the stars met the dust at the brink,

Where we caught our first taste of a miracle’s wine

And God took up the hell that we drink.


  • Zeb is studying for an MLitt in Modern Literature at St Andrews. His academic interests include portrayals of worldview, culture, and mental health in fiction. He is particularly interested in the works of G K Chesterton and C S Lewis, along with other writers around their time. When not studying, he enjoys reading, being outside, making music, and attempting to write poetry.

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