Stripping away the rose colored glasses of denial concerning my reality. Getting in touch with truth. Reaching out to others in empathy concerning their reality and their walk to truth.

Monday, December 5, 2011


Santa and Jesus come each year.
I always have to cheer.
The big guy's fat; the baby's dear.
Love for the little one, Santa's feared.

Santa's what I fear, he might withhold my toys.
Shhh, the babe is making noise.
The star on high is poised.
But I hear Santa's voice.

Our chimney is nice and clean
as Santa makes the scene.
While Herald angels sing,
To announce the new born king.

My confusion has me blind
To the life that could be mine
If not for Christmas time
I'd hear the church bells chime.

But who can let him go?
That man that lives in snow.
The “good and bad” he knows,
Trumps the swaddling clothes?

At the age of nine I see,
That Santa's “make-believe”.
I feel the need to grieve,
A story that deceives.

I search for answers all around,
As Santa's sleigh dives to the ground.
The babe grows up and love abounds.
He looked for me 'til I was found.

~dcrelief~ December 2011

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