Reasons are obscured
For some
Reason for others
Are clear
Why someone else
Is wrong…
These are Holy Days
For me
For many
And others
They are painful
Reminders
Of things
They wished
To forget…
My grandfather died today
Three years ago
Last week my father died
My uncle is in the hospital
With cancer
I am alone…
And what was
Supposed to be
A joyful celebration
Becomes a needle
Too large to avoid
Being poked with.
The sun still burns
The planet still turns
The light grows brighter
The new year comes
Life goes on…
No matter who
No longer lives
We do.
Holy Days are made so
Not because of the
The Solstice
Nor the birth
Misplaced
To take its place
Nor is it for
The candles lit
Or presents given
Or a Jolly old Man
With promises
That can't always
Be kept…
They are Holy
Because of the kindness
We choose to give
Attention to
During this time
Of year…
Because for a short
Period of time
There is goodwill
Towards those
We thought ill of…
And for some
The guns stop
For a day
Across battlefields
Whether across the seas
Or across families…
The reason for the season
Is you
And me…
Deciding to take time
To make it Holy,
For each
Their own
Reason.
