Christmas day dawned bright and clear
a
nd so did children’s eyes. For days and weeks they’d prepped for this ~ A Santa Claus surprise! Decorate, bake, and gaily wrap gifts for beneath the Christmas tree ~ a tree all dressed in twinkling lights, silvery tinsel and an angel placed atop.
Creeping down the stairs
in an early Christmas morn,
to the glow of Christmas lights
and silent night time snow
To know Santa always visited,
cookie crumbs remain, glass of milk was dry. Stockings filled, gifts laid out brought many delighted cries.
Then sadness struck a heavy blow ~ epilepsy shattered the scene.
A brother dear, without warning
fell violently from his seat.
Family pieces, like a Christmas puzzle, were strewn about the house, but like a puzzle never all picked up.
The next year came, then the next
Christmas picture all askew.
But not unseen was that terrible day
when Christmas glow turned blue.
a knock came on the door.
A greater tragedy struck!
Hope vanished with the news
the day when mother died.
Shock felt that day I can’t unfeel.
Raw edges ignored, were slowly scrubbed
then gently, softly sanded through time
This long time ago, each Christmas time,
Now mended, patched and stitched
with decoration and baking, gifts and cards
to honour those that are lost.
These are the cracks in the picture
mended with threads of silver and gold
from the memories of early days ~
of creeping down morning stairs
in light of early dawn.
Silence of gently fallen snow,
warmth of books and a Christmas puzzle
brings close a fading gentle time ~
nd so did children’s eyes. For days and weeks they’d prepped for this ~ A Santa Claus surprise! Decorate, bake, and gaily wrap gifts for beneath the Christmas tree ~ a tree all dressed in twinkling lights, silvery tinsel and an angel placed atop.
in an early Christmas morn,
to the glow of Christmas lights
and silent night time snow
To know Santa always visited,
cookie crumbs remain, glass of milk was dry. Stockings filled, gifts laid out brought many delighted cries.
A brother dear, without warning
fell violently from his seat.
Family pieces, like a Christmas puzzle, were strewn about the house, but like a puzzle never all picked up.
Christmas picture all askew.
But not unseen was that terrible day
when Christmas glow turned blue.
We grew, some flew taking Christmas traditions
along to share with children of young families until…...
while baking and decorating at Christmas timea knock came on the door.
A greater tragedy struck!
Hope vanished with the news
the day when mother died.
Shock felt that day I can’t unfeel.
Raw edges ignored, were slowly scrubbed
then gently, softly sanded through time
Now mended, patched and stitched
with decoration and baking, gifts and cards
to honour those that are lost.
These are the cracks in the picture
mended with threads of silver and gold
from the memories of early days ~
of creeping down morning stairs
in light of early dawn.
Silence of gently fallen snow,
warmth of books and a Christmas puzzle
brings close a fading gentle time ~
Cracks from the great abyss of tragedies long ago
tore families young, now growing old, have
filled with golden warmth of hope
in sore and tender hearts.
Christmas comes but once a year
or so the story’s told.
My story is with me all the year
along with Christmas gold.
tore families young, now growing old, have
filled with golden warmth of hope
in sore and tender hearts.
or so the story’s told.
My story is with me all the year
along with Christmas gold.
“Faith is the seamstress
Who mends our torn belief
Who sews the hem of childhood trust
And clips the threads of grief.”
~ Joan Walsh Anglund
Author's note: Edited January 29, 2024
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