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NOTE: I wrote the following poem some years ago. I go back to it every Christmas, read it, and I kind of like it every time I read it again. It’s a simple poem. I want to share it with you just in case you might kind of like it too. By the way, y’all have a merry Christmas, you heah (I’ve lived in Texas for more than twelve years now. I still don’t talk that way, but I kind of like it). ¡Feliz Navidad!
A CHRISTMAS PRESENT
Not a gift would make him happy, not a toy,
Not the brightest of all gold, not the greatest story
Told, not the richest of all riches, not a diamond,
Not a stone, not a thing would give him joy.
He had parents, but they weren’t by his side.
He had helpers, many helpers, but their age was
Not his kind. He had friends, but they left the
Boy behind, waving hands that said good-bye.
He had no one, not a soul, not a peer to share the
Ride. To help him live, to help him cope. To help
Him dream and thrive. Not a soul to lend a hand.
To pretend. No true friend to listen to his cry.
Both his parents worked, for they wanted to climb
High. To buy the things they liked, to show their
Might. To rise above the crowd, to flaunt their
Height, topping every meager cloud in their flight.
But, on a day, a time reserved for Santa to bring
Gifts, to climb down and up the chimneys, a
Man who called himself Saint Nick, told the boy
His mom was tricked by her Savior the past night.
“She’ll be a mom again,” loudly said the jolly man.
“She’ll have another son. To play with you, to fill
The home with joy.” The boy, who stood alone, did
Not believe the sight. He told the man to go away.
“My little boy,” Saint Nick replied. “A lot of
Boys today need the things you need. Our world’s
Gone astray.” Incredulous, again, the frightened
Child shut the door. Saint Nick had more to say.
“Your mom will stay at home, to be your mom, to
Your brother to be born. She’ll have to change, be
Always by your side. To give you love, to listen to
Your cry. To lend the care that only moms provide.”
AUTHOR: Pedro Chávez