(picks up where Santa’s Mission left off)
Sarn pulled on his cloak and boots, clad his son
in warm gear, and with much trepidation,
took the hand and adventure offered–one.
thing he’d learned about Christmas–action
was required that might just test his mettle.
“I’ve trouble controlling it–the magic.”
“Not tonight you won’t,” Santa smiled, “settle
in and we’ll be off; don’t fret ’bout magic.
Tonight it’s in the air and everywhere.”
Indeed the air did shimmer and sparkle
as if diamond dust floated in the air.
It started slow, the drain, just a trickle
at first as the reindeer jogged skyward, more
as his link to the earth broke as they soared.
‘Neath the sleigh, Shayari raced past, her dark
and dreaming forest, sleeping the winter
sleep, its enchantments bright, weaving through bark,
glimpsed by those with the sight, beneath winter’s
white covering, where life still beat steady.
On the River Nirthal’s ice, turned a skater.
“Icy!” Ran shouted, waving and ready
for a stop to greet the ice-man skater.
Icy waved his branch hands, turned figure eights,
“Fly on my friends, find Christmas’ true heart!”
Sarn held his son tight, so he’d take no fright.
He had to ask, “what’s at Christmas’ heart?”
“You’ll see soon enough. Cheer up master Ran,
We play parts and his is done for a span.”
“What about next year?” Sarn hoped that would cheer
his son, whose brief life had featured much loss.
Santa smiled, “when the season returns, we’re
to take up our parts, so nothing is lost.”
A shining ribbon on the horizon
rose up into a wall and the sleigh aimed
straight at its blinding heart; a hand wizened
by the ebb of his power grasped Sarn’s wrist, claimed
it, “I need your power boy to part that mess.
Shayari keeps her native sons inside.
This Christmas night, we need outside access.”
Sarn studied that brilliant wall where resided
more magic than he would ever possess.
Power he had; not the needed prowess.
Away in a manger, Leesha held new-
born bliss, his sweet head lay against her heart,
which fluttered–her life was near spent but new
life she’d brought into the world, it’s a start
but it couldn’t make up for abandoning
her one grandson to strangers out of fear.
No crib for a bed, this babe was handling
his mean circumstance with infinite cheer.
“There now, dearie, it’s done and you’ve a son,”
she tucked the babe into his mother’s arms.
They’ll have to sleep in hay, her and her son.
No room at the inn, but they’re not alarmed.
Leesha rubbed tired eyes as radiant beams
stabbed down from the sky; tears down her face streamed.
She held one wish in her heart as she lay
in the hay, wrapped in a blanket on loan.
“Tend to your young one, my life I now pay.”
Silent night, holy night, all’s calm, all shone
bright from love’s pure light now radiating
from the new mother, who’s suffused with light.
“Stay awhile with me, soon you’ll be resting,
dawn brings one last grace,” said woman blest, light’s
holy mother, full of love, grace that sees.
Leesha squeezed her hand, seized hope in her eyes.
No promise given in vain to please
a dying woman, not from this holy guise,
this wellspring of joy and blessings, this queen
who dwells in a stable that’s not real clean.
Merry Christmas to all!
The story continues in Tell No Tales.
~ ~ ~
This is my “now.”