The Impossible Star by Lexi Ragan
Dear Magi,
Scholars from far East,
tell me about the impossible star,
that cerulean beam, a constant
halo with long limbs, live rings
rising, stretching near blinding
brilliance over a barren Bethlehem—
Tell me Caspar,
about the impossible star,
this sign in the sky previously
prophesied, blooming over the
dunes of Judah to rest on a roof—
Where scented the Frankincense?
Did it wear off in his infant fragrance?
Tell me Melchior,
about the impossible star,
that bulb out of Jacob
burning with discernment,
a miracle magnet to wise men—
How did you unwrap the gold?
Did it dim in the company of the babe?
Tell me Balthasar,
about the impossible star,
this calculated lanterned
planet leading pioneers,
a canopy for the child’s quiet camp—
Where soaked the Myrrh?
Did it dull in the shine of the Messiah?
This impossible star,
sent to spotlight this Light well heard of,
for the boy conceived King you’ve word of,
outshined all ordinance of past coordinates—
And never took the same way back home.
Sincerely,
A sister in light