Joseph Weary Poem by David McLansky

Joseph, weary,
Found the Inn,
But the landlord
Wouldn't let them in;
At the stairs,
He barred the door
Though Mary screamed
In labor sore;

He told them both
To sleep below;
Beneath the Inn
They could go;
With the animals
He laughed in jest;
Lest her cries
Disturb his guests;

The landlord who
Rejected Christ
Without so much
As thinking twice,
Thought of Mary
As a chore:
Old Joseph and
His pregnant whore;

And so was born
The King of Men
Amid the cows
And clucking hens;
Amid the lambs
And bleating sheep;
Amid the horses
Stomping feet;
Christ lay birthed
On dirty straw
Too human for
The upper floor;

Thus right from birth
Born in a manger
Unfairness was
To him no stranger;
Joseph cut his silver cord
As drunken men
Danced on the boards.