Skip to main content

Because It's Christmas | Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu


POEM 352: BECAUSE IT'S CHRISTMAS

of myths and organized religion
of birth and rebirth, incarnation
we sip one and spit out the other,
embrace stale rhymes of jingled bells
and archive sweet melodies-
melodies to which our forebears jiggled waists
because it's Christmas?

days of festivals were scratched onto cave walls,
and imprinted on claypots,
in those times when masquerades raise the dust
of the fallen and the living
with chants soul thrilling,
now we are refugees in our own homes
waiting for crumbs from Santa Claus
because it's Christmas?

how soon we forget to remember that these myths 
shoved down the throats of those of old
have celebrated for millennia
long long before the council of Nicaea?

how soon we forget what emanates from goddesses of yore 
who symbolize fertility and sometimes whore, 
have brought forth saviors 
and modes of worship?

but we must see the need to treat virtue with a sacred touch
it's just another of many pagan holidays
a pause to rewind into the beauty of a new year

and we do well to not forget that our fate 
does not depend on sacraments and pontifications
but on how we can save the joy of life
and celebrate all humankind again
because it's Christmas and nothing more

may we remember to embrace and revive
customs archived by our naivety
and be reminded of where we came 
to be even when cultures and beliefs strive
for the sake of nativity

this is not a poem



Enjoyed reading?
Please leave a comment and share with friends. Thank you! 
 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

shy, a poem

bashful, timid, quiet.  shy If anyone you know has used these terms to describe you, you're probably a bit shy. Everyone feels that way once in a while. Shyness and social anxiety are common, no matter how old you are. There is one myth about social anxiety and social anxiety disorder that I would like to dispel. The myth says that social anxiety is just exaggerated shyness. This myth encourages the idea that anxious people are merely weak-willed pushovers. It is partially because of this myth, I think, that well-intentioned people offer the relevant but insensitive and patronizing advice like, “Don’t worry about it!” , “Just do it” and “Face your fears.”  Thinking on all these, I wrote this poem: shy when a shy person speaks, it's like music from guitar strings. when a shy person smiles, it’s like the sun coming out when a shy person steps out it's like the uncommon visit of gods when a shy person reclines it feels like moon eloped from night when a shy person is 'i

Dustbin And Drafts - Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu

POEM 142: DUSTBIN AND DRAFTS He was the night sky, She was a star, Always together, Never one. He wrote what he felt for her of how her twinkles light up his dark. But they never get to her. One more note was added in his drafts. Fragrant pens and beautiful poems Pink papers and artistic handwriting. She wrote about the beauty in his black of how they make her twinkles shine. but they never got to him. Only the dustbin knows how much she loves him - Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician #SSA Enjoyed reading? Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends.  Thank you!

For Leah Shabiru - Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu

POEM 136: FOR LEAH SHABIRU I can't find the words right To describe Leah's plight. I hope this little piece of mine Awakens our voiceless unconcern. Does she feel giddy? Does she still cry? Does she look out the window and heave a sigh? How long shall this gravity Hold her down to these rascals? I know she kicks but in vain I know she whispers prayers to her God Or maybe she now doubts his existence. Does she wish her breathe be gone? But she's just a teenager Who dreamt of leaving her deadbeat town One day she went to chase dreams The next she was never found Sunrise and sunset have come and gone and Leah is still in the devil's lair. You and I, we eat, we sleep She's not our own, we care not a bit Until same fate cross our path Trample our wives And rip our hearts Only then shall we realize in Leah died our very soul. - Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician #SSA Enjoyed reading? Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends