Becoming the Character

The Bible creeps into my dreams sometimes

and not the meager stories of shepherds and sheep

This tale began with an ache in my stomach

So true and tangible

that I would swear to the courts it was real

I felt that baby

Small kicks, tiny fingers grasping

Imagined the reactions of my heart

A joy was unfolding

that was not felt by those around

and the repetitious running from captives scene

took its place in my story.

Hot tears flying off my cheeks

and restrained breathes captured in hiding

Breathing only for the baby

My last-resorts list grew to an unimaginable length

Passing many in desperation

for beliefs in the truth

Shunned, slammed doors in my face

Not one understood

that I bore this baby

as Mary, the virgin

and I just wanted my Joseph