P: A Religion and a Myth.

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Away in the manger

Lies the baby who sleep

That made this day

And eventful treat

The year

2014

The baby no longer sleeps

He watches over the ones who sleep

Deep are they

In their dreams

But now their thoughts are as keen

On whose birthday it is

Because Santa creeps

Into the chimneys

And leaves a treat

He takes the cookies

And the milk

Whatever they left for him

His stomach bulging

And laughing

As he leaves what he promised he’d bring

It’s Christmas day

And we count down

Did someone Hanukah?

Someone frowns

What religion are you from?

It’s hard to say

The boy says as he waits

My mother side she never believe

My father, however, pushes the fact that today is Christmas

The day for the baby

The baby Jesus that he learned slept on this night

Sound sleep in the manger

With the donkeys and such

That’s crazy

The kid laughs

Your mother doesn’t believe

He shrugs

My mother says that Santa

Is the one who brings money through the sky

She says it takes a lot

To believe in something

That you won’t be seeing tonight

He only comes when you’re asleep

And if you’re awake he disappears

And mother says

That if mother’s in debt

Then Santa won’t be coming tonight

So I don’t know

Santa’s not religious

But he’s a myth that needs ‘beleiving’

That’s how I think of father

When he tells me of the stories

Of the child in the manger

Because I’ll never see

With my eyes

Who this child would be

But I believe that his birthday is on this day

Christmas

Christ?

I think that’s what It means

The boy’s friends laughs

And shakes his head

Christ?

A myth?

Who would of thought?

Bro,

You’re thinking too much

I think you just need to sleep

The boy shrugs

And things of his parents

The night they argued

…Christmas eve

“You shouldn’t tell him that Santa is real”

His mother argued.

“We don’t have money to buy him anymore gifts.”

She added.

“Santa. Isn’t real.”

His father sighed. “Julie, I want you to know that it’s what I believe.”

He paused. “The boy needs hope.”

His father looked away in disdain. “That’s what I’m giving him.”

His mother sighed and shook her head.

“Kent. I know that’s what you believe. The boy needs to know what’s real and what’s not.”

His father looked up at the ceiling as if looking for Santa’s slay.

“Look, doll. Hope is hope. That’s all I’m going to say.”

So the boy went to his room. Then went to the window to see. That there were no reindeer but there was a star shining brighter than any he had seen. He wonder what he could wish as it shot across the sky. He wished that he could understand. What was the point in false hope? What was the difference between truth and myths? He laid down that night and closed his eyes and had a dream like no other. He saw the manger a baby and three wise men. They approached with gifts of galore. Then he elves working during spring watching a bunny hop across the t.v screen. They put together their toys for tots and toys for any child who thought that Christmas real. So he sat up in a daze. The next morning his friends had come. They gave him gifts and they spread the smiles. But then the conversation had passed between the two.

The wonder and thought

Of the dream he had seen

He looked at his mother

And she smiled

Unaware of last night’s scene

He looked at his father

And gave him a hug

“Merry Christmas, daddy.”

He said with joy

His father nodded.

“You too, son.”

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I wrote this because I’ve been thinking of whether or not I should share ‘Christmas” and “Santa” to my kids. Once you get only enough you learn the truth anyway but… Should I give them that hope anyway?

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