Worst Christmas Equation
Illustration by Zach Borromeo
“Merry Christmas” in the air was chorused,
Coupled with chants and endless carols,
But nothing compares to an ab left famished,
Stuck with the same empty old barrels.
While the vast feast on meat and cheese,
Tales of Nick replaced the usual meals.
“Huh, why feed lies on children’s heads,” they wheeze,
Scrunching their brows like chilling seals.
“What am I to fill them,” with audacity I countered,
“I ain’t got a biscuit or a smudge of butter.”
Grasping that my plight can never be altered,
Poverty, I left, in the hands of a Kris up in the Northern.
“Mommy,” my children plead, hands landing on empty bellies.
“Is Santa Claus real?” with hope they queried.
Instead of shifting like prevalent follies,
I smiled at the sight of the offspring I’ve carried.
Once, a man with three daughters was left in need,
To them, a woman with no dowry can`t even marry a thief.
But a fellow named Nicholas came to heed,
The call for a life of prosperity and relief.
Little did they know that late that night,
They were in for quite a surprise.
Straight to a stocking drying beyond their sight,
Nick dropped a bag of gold which for them shall suffice.
So never fear if from fortune we’re deprived,
For it’s in generosity that wealth truly lies.
“So if Nicholas came for those who were pauperized,”
Then Christmas is for everyone if I may surmise.”
My dear one, you’re right,
There is not a caste in the Father’s eyes.
“But when we’re poor we can’t celebrate tonight”
I know my love, that’s the cataclysmic prize.
Christmas and poverty, they say my children,
Is the worst equation that ever existed,
But despite the wrath of life towards the forgotten,
It was because of the needy that old St. Nick was discovered.