When Christmas Creeps Inside Us [ Natal_ CBR]

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse Daddy, is Santa Claus real? A strange little shimmer sneaks through the night, a flicker of lanterns that don’t glow quite right— they wobble and wink as they sway in the breeze, like secrets escaping the branches of trees The world rearranges its rhythm askew, with footsteps that echo in tones slightly blue and anyone peeking outside for a clue might swear Christmas magic is watching them too (…though maybe from angles you *shouldn’t* look through) If every smirk starts to curl at the edge, and every shadow leans over the ledge, [whispered breath] the night feels alive with a curious pledge If we are capable of letting it rise— that twist of wonder behind our eyes— then maybe, just maybe, we’d recognize Christmas can creep in clever disguise If we are capable of holding the spark that glows a bit brighter when nights turn dark, then maybe the world would learn to believe that Christmas is strange in the best way to live every day A lopsided gesture can brighten the dawn, a laugh from the shadows keeps stumbling on and even the loneliest wanderer cold finds warmth in a story crookedly told If every word flickers vivid and wild, and every step wakes the night like a child, [pause] the heart learns to grin when things get… unfiled If we are capable of letting it grow— this offbeat sparkle daring to show— then maybe we’d see how the truth might be that Christmas loves strangeness as much as glee If we are capable of guarding the gleam that hums in our chest like a wicked dream, then maybe the world would softly agree that Christmas runs free when it’s weird as can be every day Let it sneak through the cracks, let it rattle the door, let it bend all the rules you followed before Let mischief and kindness twist fingers in air, a dance of odd magic to welcome the rare If we are capable of daring to rise with each new moonlit surprise in our eyes, then Christmas survives with a clever delight between what we fear and what feels just right If we are capable of keeping the fire that warms with a slightly mischievous wire, then maybe the truth becomes clear as the night: this world shines brighter when strange meets light— every day, every day… every day— Christmas alive in the shadows, always.