If I write you a poem for Christmas
it will have dragonflies and lilies and something
made with barn-board.
That’s because I’ve consulted a close friend of yours
and discovered a few of your loves.
The poem will avoid poinsettias,
unless of course you like poinsettias
(we couldn’t cover everything)
in which case it will be rife with them.
It will attempt some light-hearted talk of Santa,
perhaps a comic twist on ageing and chimney navigation,
unless your children are enamoured —
which will make me change direction immediately,
and with some revised line I’ll poke my eye and grimace
with such drama as to make your kids laugh at me,
leaving Claus changeless and saintly.
Having heard this other thing about your life
I’ll hope to cheer you with a stanza about singing
carols in church and how my aunt Irma — with gusto,
in full-throated falsetto — would launch, Joy to the World
into the rafters, if not heaven, and we, crusty little adolescents,
unable to contain our mirth, would bust out un-Baptist like.
Mistaking, perhaps, your smile for encouragement
I stumble on to scribble out my favourite Christmas,
the one we conspired to celebrate in mid-January
after the pressures were off. I write: Tradition
forsaken, still a house full of gladness,
and watch your eyes for connection.
But I am an ox, and you a garden of grace.
Undone by your patience you bid me closer
and tell me your Christmas story:
the walks you take with grief,
the special pain you endure,
and yet, serving a holiday meal at the centre for refugees,
how despite the line-up of tears and loss —
the potential for survival.
For you, dear warrior, my heavily edited poem
will come through the post
wrapped in sturdy brown paper, grainy as wood,
cross-tied with butchers twine,
your name in bold radiant script,
address in permanent marker,
wax seal in vermillion.
Inside will be the breathing wings of winter sparrows,
dark moles who glance up at stars
and barn swallows who rebuild their homes
one mud pellet and bent straw at a time.
Wow
Thank you Tiffany!
This is wonderful Stephen, “…dark moles who glance up at stars…” a particular delight. May your days continue to be blessed with the light which these words bring; grief, joy, song, verse. Many blessing to you.
Thank you so much Emily! And may your own path be lined by blessings.
Delighted by this treasure “…wrapped in sturdy brown paper…” Thank you.
Thank you Ray! Delighted you’re delighted.
How very, very wonderful! Really you had me at barn-board!
Such a gift.
Thank you Stephen, for this smile.
Thank you so much Tamara! You’ve made my day.
What a wonderful ‘early’ gift. Thank you for putting in words so much empathy and love. I wish you a serene and blessed Christmas and New Year.
Re-posted on facebook and printed for keeps. Thank you.
Thank you so much Fabia! And thanks for sharing. Christmas peace and blessings.
After a hectic few months, I had time to slow down today, jet-lagged, but peaceful. And I read several of your poems and posts. What a gift you share with us Stephen. Amid the crazy cycle of news, political wrangling, and disappointment that we humans (or many of us) can’t quite seem to get it right in terms of relationship with the natural world or each other, it is a blessing to be touched by the writing of someone who does.
I will take the “dragonflies and lilies and something made with barn-board” over poinsettias! Happy holidays my friend.
And p.s. I found the inspiration to write my poem for Vespers tomorrow.
Thank you Diane, as always, for the work you do for our troubled earth, and for your sweet encouragement.
Loved the un-Baptist reference and continue to love Aunt Irma!
Thanks Sam!
I love it. I am printing it out so I can read it out loud – even if only to an audience of one, me – throughout the holyday , which for me doesn’t wrap up until Epiphany Jan 18 (Old Calendar).
This makes me happy! Thank you Myrna! Wishing you all the wonder and beauty of the (extended-for-you) season!
Oh love it so! I think I feel a poem coming on! 🙂
Thank you Marcia!