Re-imagining–that’s what I want to do this Christmas. Remember the light, the delight, the joy–create celebration. Last week, I talked about the practice of gratitude in these difficult times. I’ve really been focusing on the pleasures of daily life.
For some reason, I was thinking about this poem today (maybe because it’s a Christmas poem)–Christ Climbed Down by Lawrence Ferlinghetti. Oh, and because another Ferlinghetti poem was a prompt in MoST’s New Year Poetry Challenge–“I am waiting.”
Believe it or not, back when I was in high school, I read these two poems plus “Don’t let that horse eat that violin!” for the poetry reading competitions when I was part of Rock Island High School’s speech team. My areas of competition– prose and poetry reading (2 separate events)–and also the competition play, for which I won a Rock-ademy award for Best Supporting Actress!
I had 2 sets of poems I read. One was Lawrence’s poems, and the other was Eleanor Wylie. Quite a contrast. Anyhow, it’s kind of funny remembering myself at 16 and 17, an earnest Midwesterner, reading this beat poetry. But I did.
All of these poems went in deep; I spent a lot of time with them–and this one rose to the surface today. Although this poem’s rhythm isn’t my rhythm, the idea of re-imagining–of an immaculate reconception–really resonates with me, especially this year.
Christ Climbed down–read by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
Here is the last stanza of the poem–the happy ending. As you’ll see in my poem below, I used my own version of that first repeated line in my poem, too.
…Christ climbed down
from His bare Tree
this year
and softly stole away into
some anonymous Mary’s womb again
where in the darkest night
of everybody’s anonymous soul
He awaits again
an unimaginable
and impossibly
Immaculate Reconception
the very craziest of
Second Comings
Lawrence Ferlinghetti–from Christ Climbed down
RE-imagining Christmas– like Lawrence F., sort of
It’s funny, as a Jewish child, my family didn’t celebrate Christmas. But I always loved the trappings of Christmas trees, the songs (well, some of them), the old movies. It’s not that I wanted to celebrate at home. I didn’t miss having presents for Christmas and it would have felt weird to have a tree at home, although I loved helping my friends decorate theirs. And it wasn’t the religious part of it, either, although the story enchanted me–a child born in a manger who kings come to worship. I loved that feeling of magic. The snow falling, the smiles, the excitement–the wonder.
Lawrence is much more cynical about the commercialization of Christmas–and I get that, too. But maybe because that wasn’t part of my life growing, I can just enjoy the magic of it–even the plastic Christmas trees.
This Christmas has been a joyful one
This Christmas, I hung out with my dear friend and housemate, Colby. I’ve been so grateful to share a home with her, especially during this pandemic. And I loved helping her decorate the tree–and putting on all the wonderful ornaments she’s collected over the years.
Neither of us could be with our families this year–in person. But I enjoyed making a special dinner for us last night. By the way, I highly recommend this recipe for Faux-tisserie chicken. I made latkes again because we both love them and Brussels Sprouts slaw because that’s Colby’s favorite thing that I make. While cooking, I listened to those old crooning Christmas carols (and even sang along).
And I felt happy. So here is my totally different version of “Christ climbed down,” although I prefer to refer to him as “The Child of Light.”
The Child of Light Climbed Down
The Child of Light climbed down from his bare tree this year to find a world brimming with hatred and fear. Yet, if we listen, he might say-- When the rug's pulled out from under It's time to find the wonder in everyday things. Here, in my new home, at night I see the stars golden light. I've missed them these many years. An afternoon preparing food to share feels good-- nourishes heart and belly. The Child of Light climbed down from their bare tree this year to find laughter, and with joyful tears, people celebrating their birthday. What gifts do we have for the Child of Light? She brings us wonder and curiosity's flight, Creating worlds and letting them fall away Like a bare tree that seems dead Yet whose sap will rise like yeasty bread To fill the world with flowers and green. The Child of Light climbed down from her bare tree this year And brough with her a star-- chocolate-covered. What gifts do we offer?
Irene Latham hosts Poetry Friday this week. Check out her poem about “How to Make Merry” and see what other poets have to share this Christmas weekend.
Thanks for stopping by!
And the happiest of holidays to you–hoping you find joyful ways to celebrate!
xoxo
I’ll bet your latkes and Brussels sprouts slaw are delicious! Glad you had a happy time. Mine was mostly good except for a couple of rough parts due to chronic illness (not me, a beloved family member). (Some things would be tough even without a pandemic.) Your tree is lovely!
Thanks, Tabatha. The latkes and slaw were quite yummy. And my daughter made latkes, too, for Christmas Eve dinner. Maybe it will be a new tradition.
I hope your family member is doing alright. Life offers many challenges besides the pandemic, that’s for sure!
Thank you for sharing your re-imagined Christmas with us, Susan. It seems ‘resilience’ is the order of the day, month, year…and beyond. Here’s to a re-imagined (for the MUCH better) 2021! 🙂
This is such a layered and interesting and lovely post. Here’s to re-imagining, again and again….