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It’s Almost Always Christmas Here

Well, I made it through the anniversary of my mother’s death.  It occurred to me that I’ve spent a year trying not to think about it or her or anything that would open up the wound. I’ve been running from all the pain.  Why hurt when I can douse myself in magic and fly.  But as the clock ticked closer to midnight I remembered that I made a pact with myself that I would give her her due on this day.  So I turned off the lights, grabbed a box of tissues and started looking for memories through welled up eyes.  It was too painful.  They came alright and too many to try.  So I dealt with it as best I could.  I started writing a poem for her titled, It’s Almost Always Christmas Here.

I tried to find us a memory… they started falling from the sky,

Little notes, raining down, each pitch black outside…

Bursting on my eyes,  into colored films of times gone by…

Each a moment, silent, happy and alive inside.


I can see the trouble brewing underneath

Moments bubbling, the effervescence somewhat troubling

I see your smile and the gap between your grief

How will you swim across without your loving belief


And then we wander over to the wreath

It’s almost always Christmas here

smiles allowed despite the grief.

It’s almost always Christmas here

dance quickly before the thief…


For time will take away this day,

this moment, this smile, this gayity

Time will filter into our veins

shut us down into another day.


I used to jump about trying to catch all the notes

colored baloons flying above

they filled my heart and made me grope

I tried to eat them before they’d fade back to taupe.


It’s almost always Christmas here

year after year and fear after fear

It’s almost always, and always will be…

your smile and boisterous stare…

running Christmas like a brigadier

And now it’s all but disappeared.


I don’t want to drown in disbelief

I don’t want to frown over this handkerchief.

I don’t want… and I want, and I want to see…

every note of you and me.


It’s almost always Christmas here

notes raining down. The films quite clear.

It’s almost always Christmas here

And forever more watched with a tear.


It’s almost always Christmas here

I wish you could see us now.

I’d like to send you a film somehow

but we haven’t yet found our ground.


We  didn’t really have Christmas this year

We just watched TV.

We tried some scrabble and the cheese

But it wasn’t the same without us, and you, and we.


We tried to find a memory.  They started falling from the sky

your beautiful black notes of sound to try…

Each filled with colored films of times gone by…

Each a moment, silent, happy and alive inside.


I have yet to hear any music and I don’t know why?

In silence they keep falling and falling as I try…

I can’t hear any music!  Why can’t I? Why?

I want to… I WANT to…  just one more time…


Britt : )


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