And through this window into heaven,
you begin with the lambs, all white,
and then Joseph, following his hand to his face.
The angels, their wings draw you to their faces,
and the magi, gifts extended in the direction they, too, look.
Closest to the cave is the mother, and, like Joseph, your eyes follow her hands to her face.
You wonder what everyone is looking at, some adoring, the magi with furled brow:
with them, you look at the babe
in a white trough,
swaddled in white,
and you gaze in adoration at the light he eminates, a white dove above him.
You furl your brow for a moment.
Then gaze for moments in awe.
The iconographer spent months fasting,
adding only one layer of color to the icon each day
before fasting and praying again.
You see him in every detail,
his prayers in the joy of each in the scene.
He, too, is written in the icon.
Taking the broader view of the scene,
eyes drawn again to the Christ child,
you wonder where your place is in all this.