Here we are in the middle of the 12 days of Christmas. Eight maids amilking, seven swans a swimming, six geese a laying, five golden rings. So goes the song, but the original story focuseson the magi. And so do we here. As we watchthese days go by we recognize that we like the magi are on a journey? Do weknow what journey we are on? As individuals? As a community? And what gives us hope for that journey?

Dusty Camels

Pilgrim magi

On slow paced

Dusty camels

Past sparsely spaced

Dry leafed trees

Years blow by them

Dry, bone brittle

Hope leached out

And still they ride

Clanging of caravan

Continual shouting

Cloth wrapped around

Seals out nothing

And still they ride

Home thoughts

Migrate on the wings of

Longing for what never was.

And still they ride.

One dare not sigh, against

Sand's forceful entry

And still they ride

Harboring gifts

Hopes wrapped up

For life long journey

And so they ride.

Evening rest

Smells of sheep stew,

Sweat, and

Camel dung

Momentary relief

From reaching toward

possible nothing

Endless ground darkness

Firelit quiet

Magnified echo in the

Ferocious star

Demands their attention

To this illogical journey