Tell us again of the birth of God,
When the sun was dying
And humanity old and frail.
Tell of the strong Deliverer,
Who broke the chains around our necks,
And the compassionate Healer,
Who removed the iron lances from our hearts,
Placed there by the murderous tyrant.

Tell us of the young Maiden,
The Mother of God, who knew no man,
Whose womb became more spacious than the skies.
Tell us of the new stars in the heavens,
The new gods and goddesses – the martyrs and the saints –
Replacing the old constellations of the pagans,
Andrameda, Perseus, Hercules,
With those reborn and recreated in Christ,
St. Katherine, St. Paisius, the Great Basil.
Tell us again of the deep, dark night
When the Omnipotent was born as a helpless child,
And hosts of the bodiless powers appeared,
Singing praises while beholding a mystery.
Tell us of the brilliant Light
That erupted within hell,
Crushing its bars and blinding its guards,
And leading the captives home to heaven.
Tell us again, and once more, and yet again
Of the Love that united Godhead with manhood forever,
That slew death like a viper struck with a sword,
That will seat us next to Christ at table
In Paradise, without fear of ever being cast away;
Instead, deepening our union with Him
As years and ages and aeons unfold
In that world not made by human hands,
Where together God, men, and angels will always abide.

A woman is a mysterious thing,
Whose simple, single ‘How’s it goin’?’
Is enough to befuddle a man,
To frustrate his focus,
To weaken his strength.
The women who want to exercise
Maximum power in the world
By putting on a pair of pants
And sitting on a corporate board
Or in a senator’s chair
Have got it all quite wrong –
All they need do
Is grab the men-folk rulers
By their collars
And tell them softly,
​‘I love you so!’