The Spirit Moves Poem by Terry Donovan

We stand in silent mystery
And wonder, will the sent one see
The one whom he is meant to find,
The one whose presence is divined?

We look along the shuffling rows
We seek a sign of one who knows
A secret signal semaphored
To ape the workings of the Lord,

To stigmatise the chosen child
For whom the touch is reconciled.
We feel the shadows point to he
Who on this night the light will see.

Our hopes, our fears they intertwine.
Anonymous we stand in line
In fear we petrify, yet hope
The scanning eye has us in scope.

The spirit moves - a common cry
(Please, God, don’t have it pass me by;
Mistaken, yes, my back I’ve turned,
Not known the knowledge I have learned.)

You’re getting warm - the cry of friends.
The spirit stops, a hand descends;
The serpent silent salient stick.
Was this another party trick?