WordsOut poems by Godfrey Rust  | collection BREAKING THE CHAINS ← 14 of 61 → | home  

The journey of the Magi (cont.)

Coming as they did from the first century
they had a few problems with London traffic
and were seriously misled by signs
to the Angel and Kings Cross. 

Inquiring diligently about the star
they were referred to Patrick Moore,
who hadn't actually seen God
but would keep an extra eyebrow raised. 

In Harrods the camels
made a mess all over soft furnishings.

On the Underground
commuters glared at No Smoking signs
as incense wafted gently through the carriages. 

And when the great day came
they saw the entire voting population
slumped on sofas by four o'clock,
rendered senseless by too much
dead poultry and the Queen,
while over Liberty's and Hamley's
the flickering angels sang
Glory to God in the High St

and they found him
(with the inns full up again)
in the old familiar place,
bringing their unregarded gifts
to the empty stable of the human heart
where the infant Christ is born
again and again and again.