In the Wake of Christmas
A found poem considering the ghosts of Christmases past
In time gone, when the big house filled
With children and food and the breath of relatives
Marking together the sparkling zenith of
Days and weeks set apart
All for the purpose of coiling a sense
Of urgency, of expectation,
Limned with brightness glowing or garish,
The annual yearning toward magic
And belief that it could be. So much to
Be done, I would start months ahead
Hoping to manage the spiraling build
Toward that one day
Gifts purchased and hidden, cards
Addressed and stamped, dates held
In reserve for parties and visits, school programs,
The ritual drive to witness the lights
Displayed to render sacred the ordinary.
The stakes were once so high
And inescapable, insistent music everywhere
A goad toward action
All effort mounting to the singularity
That swept each of us into our ordained spaces…
