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Poetry by Lynda Razafin
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When I was a little girl
I celebrated Christmas Day
at my grandmother's house.
The real, live Christmas tree
was decorated with
flourescent lights
of all brilliant colors.
My family never forgot me;
I always received a little toy,
being the youngest girl
in my family's household.
When I grew up
we again had a party;
this time it was
in my uncle's home.
My gorgeous aunt,
whom we all looked upon
in silent admiration,
was the party's hostess.
The ambiance was peaceful;
we were quiet, not rowdy,
all the way to the end
of Christmas Day.
Some who were there
were new to our family;
many of us would take turns
telling of our experiences
in different languages.
My uncle later passed away
and was buried in Madagascar
according to local custom.
My mom also passed away,
but remains buried
in her beloved Paris.
Here in New York City,
where I now live,
I have Christmas parties
year after year,
but I no longer see nearly
as many family members.
I have a dream that one day,
by God's grace, we shall all meet
under the Tree of Life --
far more beautiful than any tree
that seasonally graces
Rockefeller Center.
All the faithful of my family
will be there
with so much to share
that will be better than all
the wrapped gifts that
we have ever exchanged.
And we shall not have to wait
year to year to meet;
from Sabbath to Sabbath
shall the Lord gather us together
-- not just for a time that is now
but a mere lifetime,
but throughout all eternity!
C'est la vie!
   (c)    Lynda Razafin   2011                       
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