Poetry

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Tinsel on a Christmas tree,
heartache on my sleeve;
festive cheer wrapped in candy,
broken – how I grieve.

Merry, just a curse I hear
reminding I’m alone;
season greeting seems mocking,
my peace remains unknown.

Seems all I want for Christmas
is hidden from my list;
Busy trying to forget,
True meaning I resist.

Singing carols of the blues,
now rehearsed with spite;
harmony disguised by shadows,
blinded from the light…

In amongst this carnage
is a baby’s voice;
bringing stunning grace and hope,
making me His choice.

Scarlet stain of bleeding shame
was held in Christ’s embrace;
love declared despite my pain,
real healing can take place.

Hanging on a different tree,
my heartache on His frame;
sacrifice – wrapped in mercy,
the reason that He came.

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