My Grandmother’s Christmas Poem

Last Fall I wrote my first poem after 20 years or so.  It felt great and they have kept coming.  During that time I also picked up my grandmother’s journals.  They had been sitting in her old, dark wood, drop front desk that I now have sitting in the entryway of my house.  It is the nicest piece of furniture that we own.  My grandmother’s journals are filled with poetry written by other people.  Some she copied out in long hand and some she clipped from newspapers and magazines.  They are a diverse group of poems and when I hold the books in my hands I feel like she and I are reading together.

One day last winter I made a special find.  In one of the journals there appear to be 6 poems that may have been penned originally by my Grandmother.  As you can imagine the week I found these poems I spent my time thinking about not alot else.  I even began to wonder if maybe, because of her age and where she had been living, maybe she had even met my favorite poet, May Sarton.  I also began to think that writing poetry is something that comes from our blood like everything else that makes us who we are.  Two of the poems I found were quite personal.  What fun!  One other was a poem I imagine she may have sent out for Christmas in 1933:

May you have light this Christmas tide

Holy light from the child’s halo,

Magic spilled in the Star-beam’s glow,

The humble gleam from the tree’s window.

May you have music this Christmas-tide

Praise of Angels from the sky,

The love-filled spell of the Lullaby,

The sad little song of the Baby’s cry.

Music and light for your Christmas-tide.

 

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