To the lonely at Christmas
I see you
and I know.
I know what it’s like to get together for the first time
and have to set the table for one less
then you did the year before
because cancer came and
left you an empty chair
I know what it’s like to feel the unraveling
of a happy family
torn apart
by grief and loss
and divorce and pain
wondering if things “will ever be the same?”
I see you
and I know.
I know that you’re tired and you’ve had enough
of hospital rooms and bad news
and agonizing heartbreak
to last you a lifetime
I see you
trying so hard to make it a fun Christmas
and yet your tears won’t dry up in time
to celebrate
Your pain is too great
for
all the white elephant parties
and gift exchanges with friends
and your night is too dark to be lit up by
mall lights
and twinkling Christmas trees
I see you
and I know.
I know what it’s like to lay in bed for days
and pray for the grace
to get up
and to show up
one more day
When your soul and your body ache
from the never-ending struggle
to be seen
to be known
and yet there is no one
that sees
Your husband is too busy
and your kids don’t come home
and you’ve lost everything
you’ve ever known
your health
your laughter
your freedom
your hope
I see you
and I know.
I know the depression that sets in
to your bones
this time of the year
when everyone’s got someone
everybody’s got places to go
and you’re all alone
in a crowd of strangers
and you’re supposed to be happy
but the tears won’t dry up
the wound won’t heal up
in time to make it
a Merry Christmas
So you stay in your frozen brick house
and watch the sun come up
and go down
every day
hoping that maybe someone
somewhere sees you this Christmas
and cares about the things you’re going through
Well I do.
I see you
and I know
I know what it’s like to be lonely at Christmas
to feel isolated
and unappreciated
and afraid
at the holidays
To be stuck in a place
a part of your past
you can’t erase
a relationship
that no longer serves you
and yet still haunts and taunts
and harasses you
every single day
I know what it’s like to live in a dream
so real and so bad that it wakes you up
each night
and crushes your chest
leaving you breathless
exhausted
and incapacitated
from the weight of its
reality
when the lights have gone out
and the people have vanished
and there is no more magic left
in your childhood stories
of Santa
and baby Jesus
and of the virgin Mary
It’s all meaningless
and empty
like the bottle of pills
that lay on your dresser drawer
and the unfinished plans
you had with a friend
the night before
No matter where you are
no matter what or when or how
you come to the table
this Christmas,
I want you to know that you are seen and
loved and heard
And you are not alone.
I see you
and I know.