Where

Is he in the face of the homeless man screaming

His words of poetry, of a better life, of dreaming

Or is he found in the tears of the women locked in cages

Missing their families, longing to see their children's faces

When much of the world is celebrating his birth

I search tirelessly for his presence, his grace on Earth

I think I can make out his image, a figure faint

There, in the faces of others, many current day saints

It's not, though a common belief, that he isn't here

Rather, it's that often times my vision's not clear

He is near