A Holy Season

23 Dec



A Holy Season


It is a holy season.

Cruel winds

shrill at the corners

scrub my face raw.

I hear a choir

dying in every gust.


It is a holy season.

Ragged chanting

from the perennial faithful

to celebrate birth.


It is a holy season.

Merciless children

torment the purses

of betrayed mothers,

extracting promises

like teeth.


It is a holy season.

Her head rests


on my shoulder

leaking tears.

Her dead breath

is captured

in my curls.


It is a holy season.

I will undress it,

blue-fingered torture

from collar

to spine.


It is a holy season.

Licking thin lips

fresh with the taste

of salt and blood.


It is a holy season.

The meek

dream of inheritance

while the mighty

steal the shirts

from their backs.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Written during a bitter winter long ago when I lost my heart, my words, and the last tattered remnants of faith – in religion, in politics, in big business. In the time since I wrote this the rich have become far richer all over the world. And much more skilled at lying and stealing. Hence Trump.

It has become a ritual for me to post this every year. An antidote to the commerciality and tacky sentimentality that the season swims in.

photograph borrowed from diginoobsi


Posted by on December 23, 2016 in Still Life


Tags: , , , , , ,

6 responses to “A Holy Season

  1. ezepp123

    December 23, 2016 at 6:01 pm

    Merry Christmas & Happy New Year!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. missameliaandsir

    December 23, 2016 at 6:45 pm

    Very Powerful Sir.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Meg Sorick

    December 23, 2016 at 7:35 pm

    A bitter truth. I hope your heart recovered. Your words certainly returned. ✨💖✨

    Liked by 1 person


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