Today, December 23rd, another Christmas nears.
I try to keep tradition up while holding back my tears.

I know I have been blessed for all the many years
of love and joy and family and times we had to share.

The presents wrapped, the tree is lit, the wreath upon the door,
but pondering all the Christmases past and tears begin to fall.

This Christmas will be different,
for some very special loved ones have received God's final call.

Then I dry my tears and say a special prayer.
Dear God, my gift to you is that soul I loved so dear.

I thank you for their life and love
I was so blessed to share.

Now all that I can ask of you is to keep them in your care!
I also want to offer you my each and every tear.

Now I promise to make Christmas joy for those I still have here
and put a smile upon their face while we have time to share.

Amen
Patricia L. Cisco. 12/23/2016.
Source: http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/december-23rd

The darkness disguised as light that is life creeps slowly into my spine like water dripping down a rain gutter after a storm. The reality in the air fills my lungs like twenty cigarettes all smoked in a dimly-lit stairwell on a Tuesday afternoon. I exhale as hard as I can, but the reality ceases to leave my being. It carves into my windpipe like a tiger's paw, ripping it into shreds as gravity pulls it back down.

I take a look at the calendar. A calm font reads December 24. I feel nothing. There is no cheer or happiness lingering in the supposedly cool December breeze. It used to fill the air with the scent of gingerbread and mint, but all there is now is the smell of rotting garbage, sun-dried ****, and the occasional stench of ****.

False smiles are painted across coffee shop windows. Bright lights that distract you from the world are wrapped around the trees. Mary gives birth to Jesus on each manger atop each building. It all still feels blank. The magic is gone. The false smiles frown at me. The luster of each bulb of each string of light has faded into a bland dullness. What lies atop the buildings are dead eyed statues.

Where has it all gone?

It's like there's bitter in the sunshine
Looking forward to the days ahead
I'll learn, something worse or difficult
Can't release pressure on everything

Let the winter rain decide my sleeps
Half eyed, must warm up my lungs
Run to the bleeding point, I will stop
Where there's smoke, I'll rush there

Frozen birds in the street paths
Decaying without belief in heat
The beauty or fierce of winter
Snow flakes fall to cover reality

Morning walk in semi-sun.
Light gilds the last
of the figs, high up
on the branches,
burnishing them the bronze
of new pennies.

At the end of the year,
when all the months'
deeds, lessons, things done,
undone, the words uttered and not,
lie at my feet,
I exhale into light.

I wonder what
this day will bring?

Snowflake kisses
Are almost as good
As the real thing.

December is a cold month.
So cold.
So incomplete.

A time when nature dies,
Along with parts of me.

December is a month of dreary days.
Lit up with lights to mask the pain.

Holiday spirit.
Just an excuse to drink.

Food, family, friends.
It's all just more fuel to think.

I grew up to understand the Grinch.
Whose heart became so small.

And although these lights do warm me,
I want to crush them all.

December is a month of lies and of deceit.
It's not at all about spirit, rather a receipt.

I'd prefer sit alone.
A fireplace and a book.

Than sit along beside others, to have my heart led astray by some crook.

My friend is in my pocket
though she is many miles away
before we met... time just spent
and today was just a day

but now I know and can't forget
it's special because the one I met
19 years ago this day
was destined to type in all caps: "YAY!"