There is hope in the air
in the midst of fear, rancor, illness, and loss.
Can you sense it?
In these final days of advent,
this challenging year,
let us open our hearts to hope.
Imagine a newborn babe.
Its innocence. Its vulnerability.
Imagine the brightest star aglow.
A new beginning about to be.
Hope for good health, good will,
so very close now.
Let it be so.
I sit silently this early morn,
scenes from yesterdays
flickering through my mind.
Their childhood. My childhood.
Her sliver-thin sugar cookies,
his wool overcoat and black galoshes.
Seasonal luminaries.
These scenes from Christmas past
remembered through the hush of time.
Light shafts begin to intrude,
cast shapes upon the floor.
Today encroaches as the rising dawn.
Reluctantly I stir,
take up requirements of the day
but a promise I do make.
On Christmas Day, in early morn
I shall return to these shadows,
to this quiet place of calm.
I shall recall again the way it was,
the ones who were, those many times.
And I shall whisper to my memories,
Merry Christmas to all.
lillian the home poet 