It's not an orthodox ghazal, as it has only the refrain (radif) without the repeated rhyme (qafiya). One of my earliest efforts in the ghazal form. From 2012.
To the wedding, Christ, the human, the divine,
Came with his friends, who drank a lot of wine.
The guests at the feast succeeded in draining
Each jar, each clay-cold tank, quite dry. The wine
Disappeared, imbibed by thirsty carousers
Who you would think had never tasted wine!
Mary of Nazareth, mother of Christ, was there,
Spoke to her son plain words: "They have no wine."
"Woman, what's this to me and thee? My hour
Has not yet come." Those gallons of wine,
Would she have him replace them? If so, how?
Costly to purchase, and hard to make, grape wine.
"Do whatever he tells you," Mary said
To the certainly-bewildered stewards of wine.
The lowly, lordly Christ summoned those servants
Who had been helping to dispense the wine.
"Bring me the jars of water." And they did.
But water, though refreshing, is not wine.
Was it a touch, a blessing, or a breath
That changed what came from a well into fine wine?
Sister water, the modest maiden, blushed:
And soon the water-jars were filled with wine.
The guests of the happy couple marvelled, danced
With newfound joy. Where did he find this wine?
They thanked their God, they thanked his unknown Christ.
"At this late hour, we have the choicest wine."
Poetry by Thomas DeFreitas
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Written on 2017-10-30 at 10:46
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