Reflections on a Christmas Eve

Feliz Navidad y un Feliz Año Nuevo

mi casa es tu casa

mi casa es tu casa

Reflections on a Christmas Eve

Some nights are like this, a glass of burgundy,

candles permeating the air with lavender, a subtle

nostalgia for having passed this way.

I look out into the darkness, and it makes itself at home.

The window on this world I am reflecting on

is made of lace, from which I do not hide behind,

for I view this space, with gratitude and grace.

Every living cell within me carries

the physical recollection of Christmas Eve,

for here is a moment in time I have lived,

loved, and left behind a number of times.

This space of transitory occupancy,

complete with worn-out habits,

is the comfort of the threadbare winter coat

I don’t want to let go of.

Light enters here and here butterflies are born.

A child finds his way home. Words flow freely, easily,

although, as wit would have it with a price to pay,

this Eve is but a stop along the way,

for yet another window waits upon another day.

One comment on “Reflections on a Christmas Eve

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