Have You Seen Christmas?
Mark S. Streuber


ďHave you seen Christmas?Ē
My little child asked,
with joyful anticipation
as he jumped into my lap.
ďWhy sure I have!Ē
I blurted out,
ready to tell him with a joyful shout.
But then,
I stopped and pondered deep,
the question that he asked.
Had I seen Christmas?

  This troubled meÖ

For Iíve seen shadows of men
walk desolate streets,
tattered and torn,
with no place to sleep.
While mothers stand
in the hand out line,
with down trodden faces
stuck in time.

And desperate children cling below,
 their short little lives,
who will know?

 Iíve seen good men die
a thousand deaths,
weighed and measured,
with their last breath.
With loyalty and devotion
they pass the test.
But their wives,
do they not cry and mourn,
and lay them to rest?

  Iíve seen wars,
and wars,
and rumours of wars,
tear nations into shreds.
While one man tears another down,
until heís dead.

  Iíve seen shouts of anger and rage and lying and stealing
and hatred and murder and jealousy andÖ

Have I seen Christmas?

  Yes my son, yes!

  But not in the cold wintry snow,
listing gently
through the sky.

Nor in the sweet spiralling perfume,
from Christmas pumpkin pie
And not from the tree,
the Christmas tree,
trimmed in silver and gold.
Or the warm embrace,
of a friendly face,
underneath the mistletoe.

  Though the joyful expressions
of little faces,
are especially dear
upon this eve.
All of these are just the wrappings,
of the Christmas that Iíve seen.

 For I saw Christmas
2000 years past,
when angels sang,
and shepherds gasped.
When the God of creation
Bestowed His holy plan.
His Son clothed
in  flesh and bone did come,
and for us,
became man.

  And I saw Christmas,
when He lived His life,
healing the sick,
and lame and blind,
Though evil men plotted
and hated and scorned,
He continued in Love,
and did not leave us forlorn.

 And I saw Christmas
when they falsely accused,
And whipped Him and beat Him,
'til bloody and bruised.
The Crown of thorns
they sunk in His head,
as He slumped on the tree ,
and hung until dead.

  As the mountains trembled,
and the sinners did pray
I saw Christmas perfected,
on that day.

Yes my son,
Iíve seen Christmas,
and Iíll see it one more time,
when the ills of mankind,
receive deaths' blow.
And we leave our unholy
bodies below,
and meet Him in the sky.

 Now, your little boy face
shines bright in the night,
from the fireplace glowing,
and the tree and the lights.
The stockings are all hung,
and the candles are aglow,
but there is one last thing,
I want you to know.

 If I speak of gifts,
tis but one gift I will speak.
As God gave Jesus to me,
It is Him,
to you my son,
I leave.


Copyright © Mark S. Streuber.  All rights reserved. No part of this text may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of author.


 Return to Christmas Poetry