shaun beckett | the wise men

It’s the end of the semester.  

Yesterday I turned in grades, tomorrow I switch roles and take a final– 

I’ve been in education my whole life.  

My world revolves around knowing things.  

And figuring out how to know more things more quickly

and remembering facts that I’ve almost forgotten.  

Well the wise men knew a few things– 

they knew how to decode the gossip the stars whisper on cold nights 

when the constellations huddle together and make fun of humans 

the wise men knew how to sift heaven’s riverways 

to gather the lights of the galaxies in a bowl 

and pan out the gold of the future prospects of kingdoms 

the wise men knew how to ride 

across swaths of sand that looked like seas 

urging their mounts on with their  aching knees 

eyes locked on horizon lines that swam and dived in the sinking sun 

they knew how to sleep in the deep freeze of the desert 

how to find water in the driest places 

how to delegate, how to haggle in a dozen tongues 

how to get along during months of saddle sore days 

knew how to negotiate with powerful kings 

and speak gently to shepherds 

the funny thing is, 

for all the wise men knew 

we don’t know a lot about them 

their names 

where they came from 

what they looked like 

or wore 

the only thing we do know 

is when they finished their journey in a minor Jewish town 

that must have seemed to them like nothing 

the one thing we do know

 is they looked at a small boy 

and realized this is what they were looking for 

what they had always been looking for 

what everyone had always been looking for 

for all of human history 

this little kid 

that 

that is what I want 

I want to be like those wise men 

to be known for nothing except that I looked 

I looked at a little boy 

and I saw that he was Good 

I want to be known for this alone– that I gazed on 

an infant and recognized 

that all of our plans began

 in those fat,  baby palms  absent of creases 

that the milky way  was swept along in that child’s chuckle  

that time and space once clicked together just beneath his tongue 

I don’t want to be known for what I do know 

       I just want to be known by the one who knows 

who knew everything 

     yet still fit himself in flesh 

emptied himself 

      to find me 

Most of the time I can’t remember the facts I need to 

but in the dark shadows of December 

as exams and rubrics merge before my eyes 

I recollect 

that those three wise men were wise 

because they were filled with wonder 

that the smartest humans in history are the ones most captivated by stars 

and true brilliance is always struck silent by the beauty beaming out of a single snowflake …. 

the most sacred knowledge is simply being amazed 

and three of the wisest folks in history 

were blown away by a baby 

from a poor family 

that could barely afford a full meal 

a baby 

born in a manger 

his life bordered by 

a few boards and a handful of nails 

twice 

I don’t get it 

but he’s still got me  

got me wondering again 

at a mystery I usually forget 

a mystery that I can’t fully know 

but still can’t help but 

fall in love with