Somewhere

In an instant they are away,

scrambled, at some unspoken command

on a journey which has only a leaving place.

Like angels on Christmas eve

they chorus into the sky,

nervous with joy

and everything changes.

Somewhere a child is born -

an echo of the fleshly word.

Somewhere there is no room –

and yet room may be made.

Somewhere there is light

in a darkness of fear

and a quietude of abandoned guns.

Somewhere darkness is swept

by greater light

and the flight,

the winging in beaten air,

is the beginning of a journey.