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Breathe

Published on:
December 24, 2019
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This Christmas Eve
My infant son
Lies wrapped in swaddling cloths
And oxygen tubes. 

Vulnerable.
Our hearts have held their breath
Too many times
For love of his little life.

Tonight I marvel
That an eternal God
Would make himself
A breathing baby boy

And, vulnerable,
Sleep in our sin-sick world—
That, having died,
We might breathe again.

Michael Stalcup
Michael Stalcup is a Thai-American missionary living in Bangkok, Thailand with his wife and three kids. His poems have been featured (or are forthcoming) in Commonweal Magazine, Faithfully Magazine, First Things, Inheritance Magazine, and elsewhere. You can find more of his work at michaelstalcup.com.
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