The sounds of bells and laughter, and I walk the mall. Almost physically I can feel two distinct gravitations, a confection of greed and nostalgia that is impossible. The lights are scholarly of the soul, an artifice of the ornaments. Nativity sets melt away the generations, but not my vanities, hanging like silent orbs. I’m surrounded by a vast library of reflections. The exchange of tropes and words is cordial. I don’t recognize my own voice. Recalling my older self or my younger self, I wonder what’s true to ask the children? “What would you like for Christmas?” “I want Mommy and Daddy to dance in the kitchen under strings of popcorn.” The season has vested poets to guard the lights and fruit.
This felt like standing in the glow between two worlds, the glitter we’re shown and the gentleness we actually yearn for. That child’s wish… it says everything. Thank you for the reminder that the truest gifts aren’t wrapped, they’re lived.
Stephen, okay, this hits like a snowball straight to the chest—in the best way. malls, bells, nostalgia, greed, AND strings of popcorn? i can literally smell the cinnamon and chaos. “Mommy and Daddy dance in the kitchen”? adorable little human heart wants to choreograph life and magic at once. your words are twinkling lights and quiet giggles, all at once—i’m here, orbiting your poetic holiday galaxy, popcorn in hand, totally entranced.
The longing of the Christmas past the time where dancing beneath the promise seemed to offer the hope of tomorrow. How life changes and rearranges itself into something that can and often does turn into something tasteless. 🦋
You capture the double pull of the holidays, greed and nostalgia, as if they exert real gravity. The “scholarly” lights and “library of reflections” make the decorations feel like they’re studying us back, exposing what we hide. Your final line suggests that poets aren’t just observers of tradition; they are its caretakers, protecting what’s luminous and nourishing when everything else becomes noise.
It’s so easy to slip into the frame of mind demanded by the marketers or simply the family. Harder to face the contradictions in the season. Thanks be to God for poets.
Just tripped over this line from Emily Dickinson today and it describes beautifully what I find in your work: “Tell all the Truth but tell it slant-- / ... The Truth must dazzle gradually / Or every man be blind.” (And now I’ll go back and read what you just wrote…)
This felt like standing in the glow between two worlds, the glitter we’re shown and the gentleness we actually yearn for. That child’s wish… it says everything. Thank you for the reminder that the truest gifts aren’t wrapped, they’re lived.
~ Nerra ⚔️⚡️⚖️
Your opening is amazing, Stephen! It pulled me right in with such a strong mix of emotions. Awesome piece!
thank you Helena. I'm glad you read it at like this one.
I love this poem— It captures the full span of emotions that circulate around Christmas. Thank you for sharing.
thanks Julie! I appreciate you stopping to read it.
Stephen, okay, this hits like a snowball straight to the chest—in the best way. malls, bells, nostalgia, greed, AND strings of popcorn? i can literally smell the cinnamon and chaos. “Mommy and Daddy dance in the kitchen”? adorable little human heart wants to choreograph life and magic at once. your words are twinkling lights and quiet giggles, all at once—i’m here, orbiting your poetic holiday galaxy, popcorn in hand, totally entranced.
thanks Asuka
i appreciate you reading and entering the holiday world.
Delightful.
thanks Ray!
The longing of the Christmas past the time where dancing beneath the promise seemed to offer the hope of tomorrow. How life changes and rearranges itself into something that can and often does turn into something tasteless. 🦋
thank you Ann. I suppose I could've turned it the passage of Christmas or the passage of time. longing for simpler times!
You capture the double pull of the holidays, greed and nostalgia, as if they exert real gravity. The “scholarly” lights and “library of reflections” make the decorations feel like they’re studying us back, exposing what we hide. Your final line suggests that poets aren’t just observers of tradition; they are its caretakers, protecting what’s luminous and nourishing when everything else becomes noise.
thanks Stacey! the double pull yes. and protect the true givers.
It’s so easy to slip into the frame of mind demanded by the marketers or simply the family. Harder to face the contradictions in the season. Thanks be to God for poets.
thank you yes! long live slant truths and slant rhymes.
Just tripped over this line from Emily Dickinson today and it describes beautifully what I find in your work: “Tell all the Truth but tell it slant-- / ... The Truth must dazzle gradually / Or every man be blind.” (And now I’ll go back and read what you just wrote…)
thank you Nerra! you nailed it. that's exactly what I hoped.