Death by Christmas Lights

This year has not been the best.

It's almost gone,
this year.
Gone too quick to notice the New.
Newness shrieks to be heard.
Not quick enough to numb out
reflection.
Everyone is with someone out from
the frigid cold
the howling winds
the death-touched snow.

This last month has not been pleasant.

Brightly covered packages
tied up with strings...
these are not my favourite things.
All around me there are crowds.
joy, peace, love--
sorrow, hate, indifference.
Charity? In a red bin? With bells?
-- coins go far in these united states, eh?

The last weeks have not been heaven.

Walks through neighborhoods,
holding mittens and gloves.
Colours flashing on rosy cheeks, wide eyes--
seen from the Stars.
So much energy is being used:
placing, lighting, watching, taking.
All hung on slushy roofs and flammable trees--

now it's My turn.

This day has not been great.

Now in this place:
Even in the minds of children
I see horror.
Even in the thoughts of peers
I hear disgust.
Even in the faces of elderly
I feel shame.

This afterlife is heaven
before it transforms to hell.