Somewhere in Syria

Somewhere in Syria,
close by Tacloban,
whenever, wherever, humanity’s hold
is splintered and stormed,
cries as one ascend
why and why
and where in this misery is mercy?
After all is pared back
and even the certainties
of so many landscapes are strewn,
from the debris a small voice,
neither rescuer nor cause,
claims the irreducible
and only truth:
“I am Emmanuel, God with you…
bereft South Africa- with you;
abused and ignored- with you;
ignoble and afraid- with you;
fraught of mind and frail of body- with you;
on any street, in any store,
in refugee camp and hospital- with you.
Part of, immersed in, companion to,
shoulder to shoulder sharing,
heart to heart hurting,
blood of your blood,
with you, in time and always,
because born,
Jesus- Emmanuel-
because born.”