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Christmas! It needs no announcement,

Arriving each year without fail

On the heels of brisk blustering Autumn

And a frigid dark New Year at tail.

But, for now, light pierces the night

In a spiritually resonant way:

“Peace to the good, warmth to the loved,

Joy to the cheery,” say their rays

Filtered through glass with amberish hues

And beckoning snowy skies sing

Over church bells a-pealing and wreath-laden roofs

And bundled bunched kids snowballing.

But I feel none of all that which they feel –

Once I did! This same time long ago.

Back then, flakes were a prismatic flutter of awe

And these stores bathed the streets with their glow,

Just as tonight. Nothing has changed

Except perhaps me, overwhelmed

By the sensory tempest of holiday cheer

That blindsides me, lost at the helm.

I had only just vacated Old Marley’s Pub

Stuffed with bangers and smoky Old Fashioneds

To plop down upon an ice-glazed staircase

Where I leech off strangers’ traditions.

I spied those aforementioned children

Slipping across a solid lake;

Kitchens of rosy-cheeked relatives

In scentillating cookie bakes;

An elderly couple on their porchswing

Rocking to Elvis’ lulling croon;

A carnival of colorful caravans

Selling strudel ‘neath silvery moon;

A procession of costumed choristers

Skipping to “Ding-Dong Merrily”

Past an outlet mall’s North Pole gazebo

Where Santa ho-hos wearily;

The tongues of dimming lanterns lick

Sleek on billowing sleet

As the winds pick up, inhospitable

To those wishing to keep their feet.

Or perhaps it was to force all inside

Where they partake of a succulent feast—

The kind of which all who enjoy

Leave full, even when given the least.

Then off to bed, those drowsy heads,

Dreaming of angels or shades;

Warmth in their covers and memories hover

So that wonder and love never fades.

It faded for me, out here in the streets,

Shivering alone by choice.

I have family with whom I could be celebrating

But their laughter to me is all noise

For I have lost the light and the love and the cheer

That this holiest night is about—

Sitting frostbitten for most of the year,

Stewing in intermittent doubt.

My wonder is not in beholding the season,

But instead asking, “Why, God, why

Have you allowed the joy I felt in my childhood

To vanish like snow in July?

Where have they flown, those feelings of fondness

For all that makes my life good,

Leaving behind this sleet of despondence

That buries me in a chilled mood?

My only guess is adulthood;

This headspace comes natural to all

When harsh reality demands most of the room

And dreams answer no longer your calls.

Before I could sink fully into self-pity

For this apathetic state of affairs,

I felt the warm breath of someone behind me

Sitting higher up on the stairs.

I turned ever-slowly—their silence was startling—

Half-expecting to be mugged or shot,

Only to peer up into the calmest, kind face

Of a man who had seen quite a lot.

“A Merry Night to you, son,” he wisped with a smile,

Both of which were congenially sincere,

As he took three steps down to my level—

I did not once mind just how near.

“I can see,” he implored, “something weighs on your mind,

And offer my hand if you’d take it.”

“It’s nothing,” I deflected, “you can relieve,

Since this bed’s in my head while I make it.”

“I’d say that’s much better,” he chuckled in turn,

“For a mind’s much more easily turned

Towards things that are higher in spirit and aim

Than a heart whose hardness is earned.

That said, to confide in a friend,

Even one you don’t know all that well,

Who cares enough to ask what is wrong

Might get you out of your personal hell.”

So I let it all out to this complete stranger—

My heartache, my confusion, my pain—

He listened intently, with unmatched empathy,

I felt my frustrations drain

As we paused for a moment, to my benefit,

Calling high spirits to calm.

Then he proceeded to make an assessment

With tone applied gently like balm:

“The problem, it seems—just my opinion

Which you are free to dispute—

Is that Christmas is truly a culmination!

Yet, you treat it like the root

Cause for all the joy you expect

Though the rest of your year disappointed,

Turning you sour from witnessing little effect

And leaving your perception disjointed.”

He rose and patted my back to follow—

We returned to the scene I had seen

With children and cookies and couples and trees

And the sound of “Ding-Dong Merrily.”

Though the square was now empty, the echoes prevailed—

Dreams lingered and waltzed in the air

As my companion rhythmically nodded along

With the quiet reverence of prayer.

“The joy that you’re missing,” he gently spoke,

“Will return when you’ve found your lost piece

That builds a year worth celebrating

An investment towards your future peace.

For what good is a tree decorated underground

Or a Santa behind a glass wall?

What purpose serves an inn with no guests

Or a man who leaves love in the hall?

I tell you this, this Eve means the most

To a mother with nary a cent,

But her children surrounding her all through the dark

‘Til their warmth melts the ice that was sent.

For Christmas can be, to many, a symbol

Of what was once lost or evades;

Still, I urge you, push past hopeless feelings

Before the gift to feel anything fades.

Whether gypsy or Kachillionaire,

Life is not lived alone

Nor is it lived for the sake of oneself;

A house does not make a home.

No, a home is made by the cookies you smell—

beloved carols you can harmonize

—the memories hung every year on the tree—

The future you see in the eyes

Of the people who love you, who treasure your past

And are still by your side in the present.

You will find Christmas joy if you seek it each day —

A fruitful year deserves peace as its present.”

This son of man smiled the most heartwarming smile

And set off barefoot in the snow—

My eyes followed him for as long as they could

‘Til he disappeared past the lampglow.

But the lasting effect of his words sang on in my heart

Like angels oe’er blizzard-struck mountains

That would melt at the start of the forthcoming year,

Freeing bountiful, beautiful plains

Where I will toil and build and nurture and treasure

The things that make each morning bright

While casting aside the burdens of fear

That doubt if I’ll live through the night.

People now poured out into the streets

As their cheer chimed in the new day

And the wreaths and the tinsel and the holly and lights

Glistened brighter above all their play

While the snow fell down now in softer, slow chunks,

No longer whipping or cutting with sighs.

Horses pull sleds, all are well-fed,

And the church bells peal how time flies.

Christmas is not just one season of hope;

It rewards all the hope that we’ve shown

In putting to good use serving a purpose

For the people and places we’ve grown.

And those feelings, they filled me, though I thought I had lost

What was close to my heart long ago.

But with my path now lit, my future now clear–

That lost Christmas spirit now had a place to flow.

Off to my family! I’m dashing like Rudolph,

Heart light as when I was a boy—

For in Christmas Eve darkness I settled my piece

And with Christmas morning comes joy.

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