When Christmas Comes Poem by Robert Dummett

Christmas, season of symbols spells
Santa Claus and Rudolf flying through
Sky like Pegasus without wings
Save for 'magical reindeer dust'.
Dear Christ, grant me eyes beyond the veil
Of literalism to see the spirit
Of joy and giving in Santa Claus.
Gosh, Christmas calls so I step into
My nostalgic 'dan-dan' to see Plazas
Busy as Carnival shine strands of tinsel
Red and green and blue twirling to catch
The wink of candlelight.  
Then fireworks flash, scream and rocket skywards
Bursting at peak to paint colours
Shooting stars on blue canvas -
Friends traipse from house to house half-tipsy
Belching out carols to usher in
The festive spirit with profound
Feelings of goodwill to every soul
While consuming grog, souse, ham and fruitcake.
Those years, joy stemmed from very little
But the heartbeat was the pulse of cherubs
Bestowing blessings on all.
We whitewashed brick walls
And vanished furnishings to honour
The season and though we sang songs about
Holly, mistletoe and snow,
Putting out to grass our green fields,
Yet we felt a sweeping sense of sameness
With mankind. So it wasn't just money
We lacked to spend in the markets and malls,
Nor the Christmas trees that forgot
Their decorations at shops that kept
Everyone genial with gladness,
Rather, it was sharing the gift
Of joyfulness around, spreading
Jubilation like music memed.
It could have been something congenital
That flourished, something ingrained
From which benevolence grew.
Scarce would it be today to spot,
But when it raises its head,
Rejoicing will revel
And into the Mystery of God...
We'll walk.