Christmas Magic

_{(Credit: Author)}

It’s ironic, in the time of joy and hope,
When we come together as family and friends,
That absence is felt more than presence.
The magic of the season fades more each year,
Or so the bitter-hearted among us say.
Yet without too much effort,
We can find examples of what the holidays should be.
So perhaps it says more about what we wish to see,
When we decry the fading of holiday spirit.

Postcards from the past coupled with photos of today,
As strangers stop strangers just to shake their hands,
And offer passing words of holiday cheer,
While eager children stare at the toys on parade
In shop windows that might as well be fantasy worlds.
We carry our holiday traditions out of obligation,
But children take our lessons to heart.
They carry our burdens we never meant to pass,
But they also believe in the fantasy we deny can be real.
Christmas says it’s okay to dream,
When we defer and deny our hopes of a better world,
Dismissing them as childhood fantasies.
We say that we need sorcery to make it happen,
As an excuse for our comfortable cynicism.
It’s so easy to hate, and even easier to be apathetic.
We make miracles every day, we just refuse to see it.
Why is the brightest future so inconceivable?
What is the most wonderful time of the year without a little magic?

Tradition anchors us to each other.
We celebrate those who came before
And we work to build for those who come after. 
Today, yesterday, and tomorrow meet in magic,
When we keep true to the spirit of this time of joy,
Work to build peace on earth and goodwill towards man.

Christmas isn’t found in what’s terrible,
But in the quiet moments found within tonight.
When the tree has its array of gifts underneath,
And the snow falls gently from the sky
To blanket the Earth and quiet the sounds
Of the frantic, frenzied lives that flay and fray our minds.

The magic of Christmas is found when staring at the stars,
And we find ourselves falling victim to the childlike wonder within,
Where we believe in the man flying across the world,
In a sleigh pulled by nine magical reindeer,
Delivering presents to our children.
We dream up stories we tell,
Crafting tales of ghostly hotels come back to life
That revive long-dead belief in miserly hearts,
As a reminder that we are not so above
What made life so fantastic for us as children.

The magic of Christmas has to be found,
Sitting beneath the tree and unwrapping presents
And then gathering at the table,
To share stories, make memories,
And enjoy the meal we look forward to all year.
We may be distracted by the mundanity of it, 
And the crushing troubles of the world gnaw at us,
But we have to make these moments special,
For they come too infrequently.

In places we do not have to think about,
Far away from our cozy holiday parties,
There are those far less fortunate than us. 
Parents have had their last dinners with their children,
Home where people gathered are now ash and rubble,
And magic is but a distant and bitter memory. 
In the time of year of giving,
Of spreading and love and goodwill,
It is important to remember those risking their lives
For the peace we claim to love so much.

This magic we find on Christmas is a reminder,
That we are responsible for making that better world
Just as much as we are responsible for making the magic,
And our children deserve the practical and fantastical just the same. 
Every age faces its own struggles,
And the time of spreading peace, joy, and goodwill
Is a time to reaffirm our commitment to the difficult work
Of ensuring a better and brighter tomorrow, 
And building the peace we claim to love so much.