Living in Poland was hell. But come Christmas, heavens broke loose. Everybody sang, drank, vowing to right wrongs, forget old hurts, wishing all well. An empty chair waited for a stranger. Even a Jew, like myself. After all, the stranger might be an angel.
.
.
lotsa blinking bulbs
one flickering candle
– hanukkah
one flickering candle
– hanukkah
.
My first Christmas in Carmel, I hit the beach. I tread over "LOVE" scratched with toes. Cottages elbow the sand, Christmas trees in their windows. Peeking in, I look for an empty chair, but I get shy. Hiding in the dark, I see strangers. They are hiding, too. I watch them watching me watching them. Christmas trees stand by like much-decorated despots, guarding the happy against the unhappy.
My first Christmas in Carmel, I hit the beach. I tread over "LOVE" scratched with toes. Cottages elbow the sand, Christmas trees in their windows. Peeking in, I look for an empty chair, but I get shy. Hiding in the dark, I see strangers. They are hiding, too. I watch them watching me watching them. Christmas trees stand by like much-decorated despots, guarding the happy against the unhappy.
.
holiday giving
waves wipe vows
holiday giving
waves wipe vows
written in sand
.
by Tad Wojnicki
by Tad Wojnicki
Hsinchu, Taiwan
first published in Rainbow Curve 5, 2005
first published in Rainbow Curve 5, 2005
1 comment:
very interesting!
i liked especially this part:
"...An empty chair waited for a stranger...After all, the stranger might be an angel."
And later this thought connects the parts "Living in Poland..." and "My first Christmas in Carmel..." -- "Peeking in, I look for an empty chair, but I get shy..."
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