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Christmas Poem: Elliot the Elf


My job is reporting naughty or nice, on a sweet little girl

Named Janey, with hair so high, like a chocolate ice cream swirl.

It’s been a few weeks since I was dropped off by Santa’s sleigh

And sadly, my report so far, is she cries instead of wanting to play

Her mommy assured everything would be fine

But her daddy didn’t bring home much, work seemed to always decline

The stress in the home was enough for the little girl to feel

A layer of her childhood ripped off like a Christmas orange peel

I asked Santa, “what should I do?”

It’s not right for her to be so blue.

He suggested a striped bouncy ball

So, I clutched the toy silently, waiting for the moon to fall

Until finally she stirred, then from her bed, she rose

Santa would have been proud, since I stayed perfectly in my pose

Forever later, she made the first bounce of that ball on her wooden floor

But it sunk deep into the rotten boards and she cried even more

I wondered what next to try.

If a new toy wouldn’t stop her to cry

Maybe I should tell her Christmas cheer in notes

I scribbled and folded those words into paper-pointed boats.

She smiled when she read them aloud

I like to think my words lifted her dark cloud

Christmas tradition is worth millennia of translation

Meant to remove judgment, and erase limitation

Dark of long winter nights is replaced with sparkling-coloured lights

To sit beneath telling reindeer, snowman or winged angel stories

And erase your concealed pain with a feeling of tranquil ease

She recited the letter once more,

the moment her daddy walked in the door

He patted her head and sent her off to bed

But the words I’d scribbled didn’t stop her tears

Her face buried in the pillow, she poured out silent fears

Oh, what to do on this Christmas Eve eve?

I had no other plan up my sleeve

A breakthrough on the nextest of days,

when her daddy received a call for a wonderous pay raise.

Everyone, including the kitty, sang an off-key Christmas ditty

Later, tucked in beneath a tattered afghan

Janey sleepily smiled and told me she only hoped she can

Make a request before it was time for me to ditch

I was so elated, my grin nearly slipped a twitch

That on this Christmas Eve, my little girl asked me something I could hardly believe

The turkey will be delish, she supposed, but her true Christmas wish

Is for her mommy never to shed another tear

and her daddy to always have work happily ever after right here

Norma Rrae lives and writes in Fort St. John