This is no time for a child to be born,
With the earth betrayed by war & hate
And a comet slashing the sky to warn
That time runs out & the sun burns late.
That was no time for a child to be born,
In a land in the crushing grip of Rome;
Honour & truth were trampled by scorn-
Yet here did the Saviour make his home.
When is the time for love to be born?
The inn is full on the planet earth,
And by a comet the sky is torn-
Yet Love still takes the risk of birth.
Read my new memoir: Rosaries, Reading, Secrets: A Catholic Childhood in India (US) or UK.
Connect on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/anitamathiaswriter/
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My book of essays: Wandering Between Two Worlds (US) or UK


