A Familial Christmas: A Poem

A Familial Christmas: A Poem
by Jean-Marc Saint Laurent 

At my family Christmas that happens annually,

There are places for my siblings, Satan, and me.

The prince of this world, this serpent of ground,

is on special duty when family's in town.

He is never invited but comes nonetheless,

and present with us in our familiar distress.

Our tree stands resplendent, brighter than our hearts,

and he takes this opportunity to rip us apart.

He adores our festive table with food everywhere,

Suggesting his malice between swallows and stares,

and giggles and grumbles and guffaws and gravy,

by tempting the men and pushing the ladies.

Swear us? Hardly, it be not our tea

but he injects venom in our insecurities.

Little Sister's depressed and wants not to stay,

Big Brother's sarcasm kills the mood o' the day,

Mother's mad from the hours she's worked all the years,

misused and abused, she's lost all her tears.

“Hardly-there father,” says older sister the host,

“Would be more of a father if he were a ghost.”

“Have some Christmas Spirit!” is Uncle's attack,

with a sin list so long it'd fit on five plaques,

“Just look at my kids,” and the demons arise,

piercing hearts, with bellowing, whining and cries.

Insults from Cousin 2 fly sharper than tacks,

with Cousin 1 all the ready to stab them in backs.

The in-laws offend with each poor utterance,

resting with excuse of supposed ignorance.

Old friends come to visit with faces so pleasant,

to destroy and defame people not present.

But by the kids' table is Cousin number 3,

more simple and kind than others could be.

No deceit in his words, no plans on his mind,

God-given innocence puts evil in-bind.

To say what you mean and to mean what you say,

are the proper tools to put devils away.

Seeing his heart so clean, we are reminded of sin,

And the carefree children, we each had been.

Those days have long left, those days are long lost,

Yet sin was the creature he killed on the cross;

Our Jesus divine of wintry season,

and gives all our days a' filling of reason.

So let us not hope in people or sights,

or glitter, or tree, or presents or lights,

or sleigh bells or Clauses or chocolate chips,

or promises and disappointments in our relationships.

May we look to the One above whom there's no other,

and maybe He'll keep us from killing each other.

Merry Christmas from my family to yours,

Jean-Marc