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Jonathan sits close to the fireplace
mantle piece adorned with nativity scene
a crucifix is dangling from a rusty nail
cold as winter can be 
there is no money for a few logs
and the electricity meter
has eaten his last couple of coins

it was no joy when he smashed the piggy bank
he cut his fingers on a few shards
‘blood of Christ’ he muttered
naked salvation pierced to shreds
skin barely covering his frosty fingers now
an old bandana made for a bandage
bones aching as the fever of the festive season
passed by his soul and his heart
and the radio blared carols and meaningless trash

he did not feel more lonely than normal
his children rarely called and he wished for a gas oven
just for temporary heat and demise

his cardigan needed a wash
and he had that unpleasant feeling
of smelling his very own grime
no punch and no mince pies
though pious he always remained

how he wished it was summer
when he would sit on a park bench
and the walk to the food bank was easy
but now his energy was always sapped
as soon as he returned to his rotten abode
and passing the ‘Jolly Sailor’ with no money
left him sober and bereft

‘Merry merciless Christmas’ to me
he whispered into the cold air inside
his home and within himself
and swallowed the pills
he had been hoarding for months

he left without any complaints
but graced the Good Lord
for giving him courage to end it all
and had a last quiet chuckle
that his kids would have to pay for his funeral


27th November 2022

Contest Writing Challenge Write a Christmas poem

Sponsor Constance La France

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