Still no room at the inn

Thousands of years and still no room
at the inn, on a boat, over the border.
Another young woman is devoured
by pain, still hours away from her miracle.

Politicians turn their backs, but history
tells us there will always be spaces
between power cuts and high walls
for a new heart, the size of a minim,

finding its own song for the first time –
Yes, there will always be room
in the arms of every exhausted mother
who cradles a newborn against her,

the palace of her skin a bright welcome:
see how she worships her son’s toes,
his perfect fist wrapped around her little finger,
says a roofless prayer, over his head –