III. Losing Christmas (1/26/14)

Folder: 
Poetry from 2014

 

Needing Christmas

by Elizabeth Van Cleve (January 26, 2014)

 

Anger wasn't what I felt

Yet she told me to forgive

Would life go on without me

And Christmas without my friends?

 

"Christmas is not for presents,"

she said; "Set your sights on Him.

It's all about the Savior."
Does that mean that I'm alone?

 

I need family and friends

And those I love far and wide

I need to be sharing joy

to give all of what's inside

 

The shelter is full of strangers

Who have seen it all before

Staff listens to my story

But does not ever love me

 

Loved ones far off do worry

Each says, "Tell me how to help"
I can't teach them how to swim

When I'm the one that's drowning

 

I remember leaner times

Days I thought I could forget

I remember good times, then

Must I feel them all again?

 

I want to hear you need me
Please tell me I'm not alone

There's no one here to hug me

That will let me share my love

 

I do my chores, I vacuum floors

make food I shouldn't eat and

pray for those in my same boat

that haven't lost their mother

 

Mum is gone, brother's gone too

My husband thinks I abused him

I know I didn't cause this 

But knowing doesn't help me

 

I used to feel important

Giving, helping, those in need

Now, I'm on the taking side

I'm not so sure I like it

 

Thank you God for all your help

I do appreciate you

But do not make me remain here

Without loved ones at Christmas

 

 

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

1/26/2014  On December 5th, 2013, The last thing I expected was to I find myself in a women's shelter.  Spending Christmas away from home was the last thing that I wanted.  It was out of my hands however.  Out of blue, my husband's brain pieced together several past events as if they all had taken place that morning, then screamed in terror at me to move out.  I had hoped to talk to someone first, get him help, but when I came back home from speaking to a therapist, it was snowing, he was gone, and my key didn't fit a single lock.  The last image I had of my home was the Christmas lights twinkling on our decorated tree in the front window.  This event all took place at a time that I was already suffering great loss in my life.  My mother had died that week.  My brother a few months before that.  I truly needed my husband to be there for me, but the strain on his brain was too much.  After entering the shelter, some distance away from my community, I tried phoning a mutual friend, seeking some old sage wisdom.  I felt so sad, grief-stricken, and lonely, anticipating being alone at Christmas in the shelter.  The staff threw a Christmas party at the shelter for themselves.  The few residents planned to be with their family and friends Christmas Eve and Day.  I grieved for all I knew, not just those who'd died, but my community, my husband, and my home.  I even miss my little dog that had died shortly after Christmas the year before.  That friend I mention in this poem didn't understand what I meant, when I spoke of wanting Christmas.  I hope this poem explains it better.  

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