The Growing Chill of the Holidays

I just finished sending all my cards to buoy others up in their particular faiths….and looking out the window I wonder how I can be buoyed. Today is the birthday of my son who died tragically young. He had his manger and was born in simplicity and the beauty of an innocent heart. He was loved. But love was not enough. He had an early twilight where other children thrived.
I’m still listening for angels in the heavens and looking for a temple light that will not go out. What one feels is not “Bah
Humbug” . One feels the coldness of a silent night with an early
twilight is as real (or realer) than a mighty burning yulelog for many of us who lost, not gained, in this life.


About christineemmert

Words have been part of my life. First the spoken word in my time as an actress and increasingly the written word in my shift to writer. I write across the genres, but mostly as a playwright and poet. My interest as my life extends is in the realm of tethering myth to the mundane reality where I live. In this vein I have expanded into stories and novels. Presently I look at how myths taken from past cultures can affect us today. Hence my novella of Lilith which is out on Kindle . I live in the Eastern Woodlands where I try to incorporate nature into my many writing projects. We are so in danger of losing that link to our very planet!
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