from the inner and the outer darkness

'R' was given this [2017] selection of poems by Jackie Kay recently - there's one by Norman MacCaig within, which I'm surprisingly not familiar with ...

... it's rather wonderful:


The Many Gifts

The gifts keep arriving.

They don't need three Wise Men,
they don't need Bethlehems.

They come from the lips of people
and the touch that lifts
the black burden from bowed shoulders.

Even in the sad lands of gaols and torture
the people sing. They dance
in the middle of desolation.

Hands must close on the strange gifts,
even those that bring tears
to eyes that have been longing to weep.

They wash ashore
from the sea that seems empty.
They emerge from the inner and the outer darkness.

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Norman MacCaig (1910 - 1996)

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