A Christmas Poem

By Ashley Brittingham



the week of flying paper and rolls of tape.

hidden presents surfacing from cupboard depths–

littering areas

falling deeper and deeper into

the tumult of traditions.

the giving effort

more like an exhausting marathon

of colors and things.

standing in pews singing carols–

hymns i grew up with

the words fall from my mouth effortlessly

the meaning lost–stunted

amid the jumble of traditions and mindless repetition.

the reason for this time is close

but surrounded by already full

hearts and minds.

it lays listlessly by our swollen organs.

the purpose of the celebration:

a birth of one whom angels announced.

lights dressing the trees

angels sitting magnificently from up top

garlands and boughs adoring hearth and rail

numerous lists and to-dos and shopping–

these hardly seem relative

to a story upon which we base

the fury and arranged decor.

but what about our “joyous strains” (1)

and our “jubilee” (1)?

how are we to

“come and adore on bended knee/Christ the Lord the newborn king” (2)?

the “incarnate deity” (2)?

to give thanks for “sinners reconciled” (1)?



coming together for a common theme:

praising the “Lord descending”(3) this season

and worshiping the Lord or Lords–

our Emmanuel.

  1. hark the herald angels sing
  2. angels we have heard on high
  3. angels from the realms of glory

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