My Christmas passed

I miss my father’s calloused hand in mine
the silence when, on Christmas morn,
we walked into the snowy woods to find
some greens to decorate, adorn
our crib, the stable-scene that brought
a presence and a purpose to candle-eve
when father read from Luke, what’s taught
and as a child I listened, now I grieve
the loss of father’s hand, those simple laws,
beliefs, my simple dreams in Christmas passed.

Today Mary want’s us to think about who (and maybe what) we might miss when holiday season’s are upon us and share it on dVerse Poetics. Here in Sweden there is no Thanksgiving, so the next one is Christmas. Our family used to celebrate the holiday in our cabin in the woods, all alone with no TV, just food and gifts, and a house decorated for Christmas.

29 responses to “My Christmas passed

  1. Bjorn, this is really very poignant and touching! There is so much I miss about those innocent Christmases of the past too. I think we all, even as adults, want to find a way to believe……….

  2. I miss this sort of Christmas as well and the people I loved who are no longer alive. We adults look back to these times and remember the sweetness and gentleness of them. So very touching is this poem. I miss the smell of those fresh greens as well. and you are right, it isn’t just missing what is past, it is grieving.

  3. I like the wistful tome of your poem, Björn, the to-and-fro movement between past and present. Your words make me feel nostalgic for my own family Christmases.

  4. Beautiful. Pure enchantment. How wonderful it was to enjoy such simple bliss as children. Much different, I think, than the techno-mad hyper Christmas of today.

  5. Your Christmas celebrations sound wonderful, a cabin, no TV, just those you love around you. I am sorry you no longer have your dad to hold your hand, but I’m sure if you clasp yours both together and close your eyes and think of him, you will feel him holding it once more. A beautiful tribute Bjorn.

  6. So very personal, touching, & celebratory, brother. A perfect rendering of the prompt. Your father sounds wonderful, & as stated above, so many of us are looking back over our shoulder at Christmas & holidays past. Perhaps some will treat a sombre prompt with levity. Out on the trail I go.

  7. I’m all for such simple, family-centred Christmases too – beautifully remembered. (But I think my kids might have a heart attack if I suggest it). Just one small change I would suggest: ‘calloused hands’ for your father instead of callous, which means insensitive or cruel.

  8. A heart-warming poem and strong memory of your father’s hand. Sounds like an ideal celebration! Beautifully written, Bjorn (if you change title to “My Christmas Past” it will be like Dicken’s Christmas Carol ghost). 🙂

  9. One just needs a change of venue without modern trappings. It makes a lot of difference. Brings back grander memories than that of other that may be more costly to go to.


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