The Christening

Our role and ritual act before the font
befits austere vaults; conforms, concords
with baby-wetting sacraments - a feint
that goes unquestioned; singing words
in thoughtless joy of song; a momentary lift
of white christening dress adorning her
for some connection to traditions left -
we smile to witness oil anoint her hair.
I hear no crying in the wilderness
but glimpse the churchyard's quiet continuity
of brides and births and deaths - the endless
dust to dusts in timeless perpetuity -
till Babylon's babies dash on zealous stone
and Herod's innocents are massacred again.