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A Christmas Lament

by Delilah Coyne

How will it be this year for them without her here?

How can it be Christmas without her?

Her sweet ways,
her faithfulness,
her warmth and goodness...

such a wonderful woman, so alive...

Gone now, to her home sweet home.


Bitter children left behind will cry on Christmas morning,
missing their mother and angry that God requires their joy on this day.
The mask they must wear fits poorly.
Their sorrow, a better fit.

Deck the halls with pictures that prick the heart.
Each sparkling ornament, a memory that hurts to recall.
Heavy hearted, she trims the tree,
the familiar scent of Christmas boxes, too much to bear.
Her mother was the last to pack these precious keepsakes.

Opening gifts won't be the same.
No tag that says "From: Mom"
No special present chosen just for her with a mother's love.
None of her mother's warm Christmas cookies.
It will be a farce this year.
An empty Christmas shell.
Joy and warmth, a faint and fading carol, sung no more.




12/07/2006

Author's Note: My aunt died earlier this year and this will be my cousin's first Christmas without her. They were very close and I can't imagine what it will be like for her this year.

Posted on 12/07/2006
Copyright © 2024 Delilah Coyne

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 12/07/06 at 05:47 PM

Neither can I, but I do think you brought that to life with absolute heartbreak. Really nice work.

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