Royal birth

Pretty stupid for wise men, weren't we?
Without us Herod might never have known.

And now,
the slaughtered babies, cradled on pillows of blood
rebuke our wisdom,
staggering forward on their new found legs,
round faced toddlers greet the swords with their soft bellies.
And mothers, mothers, mothers,
hollow faces turned to an empty sky
and eyes like dark pits, filled with tearless grief
- "Rachel, crying for her children" they call it -
that howl , which the pitiless hills throw on from mouth to mouth.

One wild scream stands shivering in the still air.

And all because we assumed.
We assumed that a king would be welcomed,
born in a palace with fine clothes and comfort,
a happy event for all his people,
greeted with fanfares and celebration -
like all royal babies.

Pretty stupid for wise men, weren't we?