A Better View

A Better View

In the stable

he couldn’t see much

lamplight showing a couple of

tired faces; passed that the blur of

beasts and shepherds

the ceiling overhead

untrained eyes barely open

muscles too new to focus

On the shore, he sees the

frontmost line of us pressed in to listen

eyes squinted in concentration

brows slanted up in hope

his partners—seasoned fishermen

row him out a bit

the better to see this mass of seekers

cupping our ears to hear

From the timbers

lifted above the stones

he sees us on the mound—the skull-place

faces of all kinds: sickened pity there

next to merciless disdain

from this elevation he takes

the forgiveness he’s begged for us

and blankets us, all

On the air lifted

focused eyes reach us

he sees and blesses

perched not on tree or boat or manger

clouds provide his limitless vantage

disappearing from our sight

but keenly he sees us always

and always through and through

—David W. Price, May 2021