Simeon, what you’ve been awaiting
in your weathered skin
is here now in your clasp,
the heartbeat of innocence,
proof that we’re not despaired of.
Widow Anna, steady at prayer
though on the creakiest of limbs,
go tell what your vision shows you,
the youth of the world
in this surprise of a child.
O cluster of elders
retelling the feats of a lifetime,
attend to what’s newest of new,
this pure light from the source,
Jesus, the flesh of mercy.