Release -- A Christmas poem

The sound of merriment draws me to the railing.
Peering below
I feel the pierce of Christmas past.
The sound of me collapsing to my knees
goes undetected as Joy to the World swells
and the clink of cups of eggnog signals the midnight hour.
“Merry Christmas” rings out as hugs are exchanged.
I am chilled in my nakedness,
but my trembling comes from deep within…
a place where this magical eve once lit up my soul.

My soul.
My soul.
Where did I leave it?
Was it lost in a bottle?
A needle?
Did I leave it behind in a stranger’s bed?
Does my mother coddle it like a newborn babe?

Newborn babe…
Savior…
Christ the Lord.

Oh Lord,
restore my soul.
I give you my despair this eve.
I surrender my pain,
release my bitter tears.
Receive my despair as gold,
my pain as frankincense,
my tears as myrrh.
These are the humble gifts I have to offer.
Receive them, infant King.
Let me once again hear that first Noel
the angels proclaimed.

Retreating to the bedroom,
I drag a comb through my tangled hair,
and dress quickly.

The sound of merriment draws me to the railing.
Triumphant strains of The Hallelujah Chorus
guide me down the stairs
as my voice begins to swell.

                                          By Hana Haatainen Caye
                                          ©2008