The Grinch on the inside of who you and who me,
who shrinks from the carols and ducks under the tree …
The Grinch who fears weight gain and avoids every store,
with chestnut-roast muzak and wreaths on the door …
The Grinch who dreads greedies and commercials for toys,
and deplores the way sadness is wrapped in fake joy …
This Grinch has a heart that is just the right size,
but it hurts so at Christmas that it is no surprise …
That with all of the darkness, the hurry, the haste,
with all of the “must-do’s,” the parties and waste …
The Grinch on the inside of you-grouch and me-beast,
the Grinch who hates candlelight service and feast …
The Grinch who is lonely, and feels like a stranger,
the Grinch who’s disgusted when I rhyme with “manger” …
Finds that all of the stories of this Christmas season,
the Scrooges and Nutcrackers point to one reason.
It’s a Wonderful Life, White Christmas, Fred Claus,
and the Polar Express are all written because --
There’s a mystery here, there’s a wonder, a glow,
that comes not from a package or starlight on snow …
That is not about family with its comfort or grief,
and is not about having some perfect belief …
It’s all about God, who won’t come the right way.
who jumps out of the church, as well as the sleigh …
God who needs diapers but takes myrrh in a pinch –
this God who sends babies is in love … with each Grinch.
©Maren Tirabassi
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