“Christmas is built upon a beautiful and intentional paradox; that the birth of the homeless should be celebrated in every home.” ― G.K. Chesterton

The snow flies sideways
In the stiff winter's wind,
The same wind polishing
The dirty snow And the ice
Left by a plow
Earlier that day.
I stand motionless,
Staring longingly
Into a window
Where light spills out,
Promising warmth,
The open curtains
Exposing the family within
As they gather 'round a table
Laden with holiday food;
I hear their laughter
Nearly drowning out
The Christmas music
Playing in the background,
And in my mind
I am whisked back
To a time
When I also shared
The fellowship
Of the holiday season;
But now I wonder the streets
Pushing a shopping cart
Full of my possessions,
With my entire wardrobe
Worn 5 layers deep
Upon my body.
I mumble nonsense,
My appearance, odor, and actions
Driving people
To give me wide berth;
And deep within my fractured mind
I am shamed by what
I cannot help,
Knowing I would not be welcome
Within the light and warmth
With the abundant feast
Shared by those
Who laugh as they share
Their love and fellowship
On Christmas Eve.
So I turn away,
Pushing my cart
With great difficulty
Through the dirty snow.  

c. 2015 

  ❄️In rememberance of those who aren't as fortunate as I am. Who don't have the warmth and security of a place to call home. Who don't have plenty to eat. Who don't have all the simple basics that I often take for granted. Charles Dickens wrote as Tiny Tim, "God bless us, everyone." And that includes the homeless, however they came to be so.❄️