Mary and the Manger

For this Christmas season, my writing mentor has challenged us to write a non-typical holiday story - something unusual. One of his suggestions was to write a story about Mary and the Manger - I decided to do a poem. This is an intimate look at the birth of Christ from the Holy mother and the blessed manager's point of view.

Mary and the Manger
By Bobbi Rightmyer


The day’s been long and I’m so very tired,
but there is nowhere for us to sleep.
My burden is heavy with the blessed one,
so I’ll carry on the best I can.

I’m sorry, little mother, vessel of the Holy one,
but my comfort is crudely made of wood and hay;
And although I nourish the lowly beasts,
I promise to provide warmth to the child.

An inn should be the proper place
for the birth of this precious son;
But with no room to find, no place to spare,
I’ll settle for your cozy little shelter.

O Holy night, O precious night,
my hay is clean and dry.
O blessed one, O special child,
lay down your head, don’t cry.
O God above, O Father and Spirit,
I will cradle and protect this babe.

Now I lay me down to sleep,
the prophesized child is born;
But God above took away my fears, my pain
and guided me through the night.
Now my precious child is here
and the world has one last hope.

O, what a beautiful boy, this glorious child of God;
And thou my accommodations are not grand or spacious,
they hold all the love and hope of kings.
I’ll keep him safe, I’ll keep him warm
in this stable in Bethlehem.