Christmas, 2025 (In All Its Glory Comes)
- Anne Childress
- Dec 22, 2025
- 1 min read
Christmas, 2025, in all its glory comes,
To the rhythmic beat of winter’s drums.
A year of shifting tides and high cost,
Between the treasures gained and spirits lost.
No Christmas tree is up, no decorations abound,
Just an existence of everyday, where no revelry is found.
But on this sacred day, I seek the light,
To keep His holy Mass within my sight.
I find the blessing in a Savior’s birth,
A hope renewed for all the tired earth.
No crowded halls or social noise for me,
Just David’s face, the only one I see.
We’ll share a quiet meal, a simple space,
With steam and salt and Japanese grace.
The glowing screen is dark, the world put back,
To keep the quiet focus that I lack.
Then I will sit with Mama, soft and low,
And watch the fading of a steady glow.
My heart is heavy with a sudden fear,
The silent question: is this the last year?
I seek no festive crowd, no hollow ring,
Just the strength to face the weight the holidays bring.
To cross the threshold, solitary and wide,
Safely reach the misty other side.
For in this grief, a deeper truth has grown,
The seeds of words that can only be sown,
By walking through the dark, the sharp, the real,
To write the human story that I feel.
Copyright: Anne Hendricks, M. Ed.
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