"A Christmas Poem," A Poetry Post

'Twas the night before Christmas.
I sat down at my place with a
song in my heart and a
smile on my face.

The curry was eaten.
The fried rice was gone.
My husband, the Sickler,
still alive and at home.

My little boy, twelve,
in the front,
by the tree...

In the back, in the recliner,
sat little ole me.

Luke 1 had been read,
and we all understood that
through impossible means
we'd gained impossible good.

And two televisions were a-glowing
with a mixture of tales
featuring trite character struggles
and comical family fails.

A four foot tree sat
atop an end table
all covered in cards and little
gift bags galore.

Little boxes and knick knacks
and notebooks and textbooks
and magazines and Wii remotes
from great days before.

Not a credit card swiped
to increase family debts.
Not a big Christmas dinner
to waste on just three.

Just the lights and the stories,
the peace and rest,
the love and satisfaction
of my family and me.

The elders are gone who
upheld the traditions that
welcomed the neighborhoods
into our home.

And I admit, in the silence
I started to feel that
the loss of festivities
left me bereft and alone.

In the end, I remembered that
seasons had changed,
that my new family needed me
and must be maintained.

So I shored up my insecurities
and decided right then
to begin new traditions and
enjoy Christmas with them.

It's not about pies, and it's not about hams,
and it's not about cute cakes or jellies or jams.

This Christmas, let's remember
that whatever lies behind,
we must be whole, happy and holy
and keep Jesus in mind.

-T. D. James-Moss