Why can’t I be a miracle

Like Hannah on her knees, but rising

Or like Sarah old, but laughing?

Why must I be the empty one

Barren formless and void

And still waiting yet preaching of

Expectation and hope?

People say it will happen

When I least expect it.

Or when I stop trying, by surprise.

But I cannot imagine a moment when I could expect it less than I do now,

or even a moment when I will not want to be trying

So how can they be right?

I want to be a miracle.

So why am I the one doomed to minister and live an ever ongoing advent,

One where, unlike the birth of the messiah, the one hoped for May never come?