Poetry

Days Before Christmas

Days before Christmas
and I’m annoyed
by winter’s gray,
mad at sickness
I can’t keep at bay,
stressed with laundry
and the wrapping,
and more stories
of sneaky porch
pirates getting away.

I know I seem
frivolous, and
this is luxurious,
to complain
about things
that seem trite,
but ‘merry and
bright’ aren’t
sitting just right
these few days
before Christmas.

Joy gets harder
to muster under
days trimmed
with evergreen;
pressure builds
to find handles
on peace while
decorating with
dried tangerines.

So let it be said,
even if I’m alone
in forgetting,
Joy is no
prerequisite,
shame not a
consequence,
when all isn’t calm,
a lot isn’t right,
and we are drowning
in incompetence.

Joy isn’t something
conjured with cookies
and Peace isn’t lured
by more packaging.
Believe me, I’ve tried,
and I’m back to what’s
time-tested and true:

remembering
a lifting
a lightening
a release of
Joy and Peace
in Holy flesh,
like snow fall
swallowing us whole.
Christ came to us,
introducing
redemption
that found our
hurt and loneliness,
acknowledged it
hugged it
wrapped it
with Promise:
it will never be forgotten
and we will be brought in
even with our preoccupation
these days before Christmas.

 

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.