Long Religionchristmas Poems
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It was just like every other year
Trimming trees with holiday cheer.
Like practiced dancers, we went around
Knowing by heart every carols sound.
There were smells so sweet, but I knew them all
From the cooking of ham to Grandmother’s shawl.
I sang like the others while popcorn was strung
Not really noticing when the door-bell was rung.
We were easily absorbed in familiar footpaths
Following traditions from generations past.
No one had noticed what it had become
Something we did for the sake of having been done.
From a small box another ornament came free
A candy-cane heart was placed on the tree.
It was a strange thing to see him come through the door
With a cheerful smile and something much more.
I don’t understand why he came to me
Huddled shyly behind the tree.
There were words about merriment and spreading the cheer
And; “For you, my dear, I have something here.”
A little box wrapped in a red bow
Catching the lights with an enchanting glow.
I looked to him with pleading eyes
Wondering what was beneath this tinfoil disguise.
I should wait until Christmas, I was sure he would say
But the look in his eyes gave him away.
With a nod of his head I gave a light tug
Feeling it loosen that was tied with love.
I slid the paper away just a crack
Enchanted by the shimmer that greeted me back.
Inside a glass box with a frosted design
A round green ornament sat with a shine.
I marveled and awed at the glittering shade
Of a woman, a lamb, and a bundled up babe.
There was confusion at first at the image it held
Nothing alike our reindeers and bells.
But I smiled at it and the comfort it brought
And the spell of wandering, happy thoughts.
I was too young to know what it meant
But that giving man lent more than he sent.
The spirit of Christmas wrapped in red love
Of all of my ornaments it still hangs above.
There’s more to Christmas than we often see
But that Christmas Eve insight was given to me.
It isn’t the food or the gifts that we give
But the spirit of love by which we live.
Given to us by a man that once was
Born to be killed because he loved.
I took a trip to the florist,
This past Christmas Eve morn.
And happened by a homeless man,
Who seemed lost, and forlorn.
He said: “Good sir, I need your help,
I don’t seek to deceive,
I need some roses for mama.
For it is Christmas Eve.”
“But they act as though I’m not there,
These florists must be blind!”
He handed me his change and asked,
If I would be so kind.
He’d saved enough for three long stems,
Not much of a bouquet,
But cheerfully he shook my hand,
And then was on his way.
Convinced that I’d done my good deed,
I bought some for my wife.
Two dozen beautiful roses,
For the love of my life.
Driving past the cemetery,
I saw that homeless man.
Kneeling beside his mother’s grave,
And so I parked my van.
My heart was broken by that sight,
I knew not what to say.
I mindfully approached the grave,
Offering my bouquet,
He said: “You meant those for your wif
They should not leave your hand.”
I said, my wife knows I love her,
And she will understand.
I placed them on his mother’s grave,
As tears rolled down his face.
And I was lost in the moment,
Suspended in that place.
Then from behind, a man inquired,
If I had been a friend.
I told him “no, I’m with her son,”
He did not comprehend.
When I pointed at the roses,
The homeless man was gone.
The stranger said, “You’ve seen him too?”
Was he putting me on?
He said, “I believe your story.
For I’ve seen him as well;
On Christmas Eve, six years ago,
A tale I rarely tell.”
He said there’s something I should know,
And quickly clarified.
“It was back in nineteen ninety,
When this homeless man died.”
He came here every Christmas Eve,
Until his final breath.
It’s a practice he’s continued,
All these years, since his death.
Sometimes it takes a miracle,
To make someone believe.
Mine came with roses for mama,
One special Christmas Eve.