Still Christmas

Though father hit and cursed and did his worst,
Christmas wasn’t all tears and fear and bloodthirst.
All the mean things he would do and say, never stopped Christmas Day.
Through every fist and plea, there was still a Christmas Tree.
Tears on our face, huddled together at the fireplace.
We cried together in strides through the yule tides.
After every fight, there were Christmas lights in the night.
A sight to behold, even amidst the bitter cold.
Lost in jolly wonder, every time, despite torn a sunder by his crimes.
Even in the darkest of his fits, Christmas Spirit wouldn’t quit.
Broken boxes of red and green, family hugging at the scene.
Without presents and toys, there was still songs of joy.
There was still laughter and fun sought after.
I had my mother and my brother, and my sister too.
In the face of ill will, I still found glee,
And it was still Christmas for me.


2 thoughts on “Still Christmas

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