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Christmas up North
Outside white snow, the wistful tune,
“Have yourself a merry little Christmas”
Tree lighting, Gift wrapping,
I stifle a sob in the back of my throat.
How fragile, easily bruised,
needy and vulnerable we are.
Love spilling over wants mutely
to speak.
Tokens painfully chosen-
right color? right size?
We hand them,
timorously hoping to convey
the measure of our caring.
On this day,
It encapsulates complete self giving.
Our poignant celebrations only intimate.
We choke on the beauty.
Tears are allowed.

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