T’was the night before Christmas

With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore

T’was the night before Christmas, when all through the flat
Not a creature was stirring, no mouse, dog or cat.
No stockings were hung by the chimney with care
No children to hope for St Nicholas there

The adults were lying awake in their beds
While cold dreams of loneliness danced in their heads
Overwhelmed by all manner of circumstance crap
Turned their backs on each other and tried hard to nap

Ignoring the sound from outside – such a clatter
Whether burglars or vandals; it just didn’t matter
But an unwieldy comment released in a flash
Let a maelstrom of grief come unleashed in a crash

Even the moon heard that riled pair let go
Waking neighbours above and the neighbours below
When what to my wandering mind should appear
But so many ways out of this misery here

With a run to the press: don’t be seen – just be quick
I know I won’t drink so much I end up sick
So rapid and quietly that bottle it came
Taking one shot, then two, for oblivion’s gain

Now family! Now Friends! Yes I made this decision
To go back on my word in one swift, chugged recision
For as much as life’s driving me straight up the wall
I’ve not yet (quite) just run away from it all

For as leaves which before the wild hurricane fly
Sometimes meet with an obstacle, crash, burn and die
YES, to the alcohol once more I flew
Risking censure and doubtless some ‘judging me’, too

So before you go rubbing my face in your proof
That your way is better, let me tell you some Truth
Life’s shit and don’t seem to be turning around
In spite of the prayers and support that abound

I’m tired of it all, from my head to my foot
Of how so much seems to be really Kaput
And I know you might say that you’ve so got my back
But the rot has set in and I’m starting to crack

My eyes lost their sparkles. No dimples; no merry
No way to quick-fix this – no magical fairy
I wish that there was any way we could know
But there isn’t, so on into mis’ry we go

The stump of my hopes is now buried in grief
Shattered and wounded beyond all belief
In a vile play ‘most worthy of Machiavelli
My nights inflict dreams of a big baby belly

All roundy and chubby with babe in good health
And I smile when I dream it in spite of myself
Yet the loss upon waking I soon learned to dread
And the tears, as these dreams seem to mess with my head

I’m trying to hold it together at work
And find ways to be Thankful and not be a jerk
But it’s such a hard struggle, and now I disclose
That I’m tired of the swamping of endless new lows

My walk’s lost its bounce and my song’s lost its whistle
All the time I’m aware of the ‘crap new meds’ missile
So this Christmas I’m plunged in the darkest of night
‘Cause it’s timed for two months and the end is in sight.


8 comments on “T’was the night before Christmas

  1. Chris Carter says:

    Oh Lizzi! No NO NO!!! You're not allowed to give up, let go, give in!!!!!! You have too much to give- and too many “good things” in your life to let this devour you!!! Don't you dare let this monster take you down!

    You are stronger than this. You have hope there inside. I know you do. It's just toppled over. Don't bury yourself and your strength and your hopes yet. You simply can't.


  2. I haven't known you all that long or all that well yet, but Lizzi you can't can't can't go down that road. Believe me. No trite phrase or words of comfort will help – I know. You just hang on, dear girl. In the short time I've started to know you I can see you have so much to offer – and maybe in ways that you just don't know yet.


  3. Lizzi R says:

    Not a forever give up…just last night. Probably.

    I tellya – grief's like a freakin' HYDRA and every time I deal with one bit of it, another one snakes in and bites me.

    Small, tiny, shredded hopes which will be dashed permanently by the end of this year, one way or another.


  4. Lizzi R says:

    Much to offer. Worth and deserving. The warm opinion of friends-and-relations.

    – all things that grief, and life, care not two hoots about.


  5. Tamara Woods says:

    Such a beautiful bit of soul-crushing grief. Thank you for sharing. FATT!


  6. Lizzi R says:

    FATT indeed, my dear. But thank you.


  7. Christmas sends such poignant reminders to us doesn't it? An erudite expression of the woe within. Sharing on the times tomorrow, my friend.


  8. Lizzi R says:

    Thank you Michelle.

    Also, I now have to learn what 'erudite' means, so thanks for that, too x



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