Sunday, December 4, 2016

SONNET TO A STRANGER AT CHRISTMAS



[I wrote this poem in 1963, when we were asked to write a sonnet at school. It was December. It appears I have had these conflicting thoughts about Christmas - excess in a world of inequities - since I was young. I was seventeen. What I most wanted to do was go to Africa and care for orphans. I so wish that I had.]

Pure snowflakes fall upon a dust-gray street:
Love's beauty, scattered by a Baby's fingers.
The softened, hov'ring winter darkness lingers:
A gentle life, so sweet to me, so sweet!
Clear, poignant carols echo on the air,
Sung by the pale-lipped children of December.
With breathless joy, always will I remember
Their angel-sounds, so fair to hear, so fair.
The gifts pile high under the Christmas tree.
The gaiety grows greater every day.
Into my dreams, a starved child finds his way:
"A crust of bread for me, a crust for me."
The thought of him remains all season through -
So far away, so little I can do.


for Elizabeth Crawford's Creativity Challenge: to give the world a hug. Children everywhere need our hugs and our help, all year long. Our hearts feel happier, when helping those in need is part of our lives. It is great to involve our kids in this as well, so they feel the joy of giving.

I just turned on the news and received an unexpected hug. Permission has been denied for the pipeline at Standing Rock. What is that quote: never underestimate the power of a group of committed people to do great things.

Our voices, joined together, CAN and DO effect change........let us keep our voices raised against all the issues to come, especially around climate change. 



7 comments:

  1. Thank you Sherry. I believe our thoughts are energy, especially when expressed outward in words. They can become a very real hug to another.

    Elizabeth

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  3. Good to keep our eyes focused. Thank you. I worked for Toys For Tots and the Shriner's Children's' Hospital in Sac.

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  4. The what ifs can be haunting. There are still some souls that visit my dreams on a regular basis--those I did right by and those i didn't

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  5. Now, the tears are flowing. You were born a poet, a woman with an open heart.

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  6. Haunting. I'm seeing wreaths around their heads like halos.

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  7. The thought of him remains all season through - So far away, so little I can do.

    So much we had wanted to do.Having good thoughts for them may rub off on them.It seems it has a way of happening to what one had wished for!

    Hank

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