Santa, Can You Hear?

December 22, 2012

A different world next Christmas, she asked for every year.
On Santa’s lap her whispered plea her mother heard, in tears.
Not knowing why her mother cried, her fervent hope remained.
Dolls and skates she loved and yet, her heart could not be swayed.

Letters by the million were sent away up North,
Full of childish wishes Santa’s magic could bring forth.
Among them was a plaintive plea, “Santa, please, this year,
Make the world a different place. Santa, can you hear?”

She promised then with all her heart, all she had to give,
The Christmas gift she wanted was a better place to live.
Life had taught her reasons for which people lived in fear,
Yet every year she asked, again, “Santa, can you hear?”

While her children wrote to Santa she hung on the Christmas tree,
A sparkling, shiny bell of blue, asking Santa silently,
“For all the people in the world, Santa, please, this year,
Make the world a different place. Santa, can you hear?”

Her hair was gray the Christmas when last she placed her bell,
Dull glitter peppered branches; from the ornament it fell.
One tiny glint of shiny paint met her steady gaze;
White light outside the window cut through the morning haze.

A hot wind, loud and frightening, howled at the door,
The bell swung from the Christmas tree, then shattered on the floor.
The little bell had never pealed, now broken, it was clear.
A note wrapped ’round the clapper read, “Santa, can you hear?”

JanCan December 2010

I should leave these things somewhere—it might as well be here. I will add some of the others as I run across them. Maybe I will even get ambitious and write something new.


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