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?