Mary was pregnant.
She didn’t know
The how, the why or the when
Until the angel came and told her the news.
His mask was a bit askew
And she could have sworn that a bit of beard was poking out
Seemed unlikely but..
So you’re having a baby he said
His voice was muffled as all voices are
Through fabric.
She thought he said baby but hoped he hadn’t
I mean she and Joseph hadn’t, …..you know
I mean what with covid and all that
They’d barely been able to be in the same room
Their dwellings were tiny hardly regulation two metres.
It’s all very holy the angel said
This Virgin birth stuff and you’re the chosen one.
Mary somehow didn’t feel special just shocked
And half wished Hannah was in her shoes
She wasn’t fond of Hannah.
When the time came
She was straddled across some donkey’s back
Seasick with swaying and longing for a bed.
When they got to that place, a lousy stable for the birth of a God
She felt both outraged and couldn’t care less.
All those exercises, deep breathing Hah!
With a mask on!
But she did it.
She grimaced and groaned and birthed her son
And laid him in the cow’s manger, swaddled and masked
She’d made sure that in her layette
She’d stitched a dozen tiny masks but
She felt irked knowing her baby would not know his mother’s smile.
Then the shepherds all turned up, headdresses swathed about their faces
Bearing a couple of ewes and a lamb
And then the kings too, each one sporting a bejewelled mask.
And such timely gifts
A two metre rule, a miniature jewelled mask
And a bottle of hand sanitiser scented with frankincense.
Mary was exhausted, rested her heavy head on Joseph’s shoulder
She could tell it was Joseph, he smelled of wood
The shepherds smelled of sheep
And the Kings just smelled mighty rich.
The baby mewed in his manger
Mary lifted him and raised his mask and he suckled
And it was Christmas
And the angel on high sang oh so loud his Gloria’s to the world
Mask free and sporting a luxuriant beard.
Trudie Shannon
Image : after Pixabay - CCXpistiavos
