An hour ere the angel came, the maid was baking bread;
She mixed the yeast with water that the household might be fed.
In the streets outside the window the women raised a cry,
As they bound a group of “brigands” and led them out to die.
–
An hour ere the angel came, for fear of friend and foe,
The doors were locked and barred when Mary mixed the yeast with dough,
While tricksters for amusement cruel did lead the blind astray,
And soldiers robbed a beggar-child to supplement their pay.
–
An hour ere the angel came, the poor in filth did die;
The cynical seducer with his neighbour’s wife did lie.
With all the grief of children lost the women sobbed and wailed,
While those who bore the crosses ‘neath that burden fell and failed.
–
A minute ere the angel came, one kept the labourer’s hire,
And infants died as human shields in war’s most bitter ire;
And lies were told upon the roofs and spite behind closed doors,
And God’s law seemed but a burden imposed to suffering cause.
–
A moment ere the angel came, when Mary sat alone,
Where wailing cries arose, “Is mercy in destruction shown?”
The crosses stark upon the mount told an oppressor’s might,
But neighbour cheated neighbour sore at morn and noon and night.
–
When Mary sat with burning heart in gladness and dismay,
Still on the roads the mothers mourned and still the lies held sway,
And the angel parted from her and she was alone indeed,
And the cries of those they crucified did sow but bloody seed.
While, within her, unseen, silent, cells of the Son divide:
The yeast that leavens all the world till it with God abide.
Cherry Foster
Handmaid's Distaff 