One Winter’s Christmas Day

A match girl

On a winter’s Christmas day
there is a little girl,
her hands numbed with cold,
selling matches,
bringing her slender hands together
to pray to God.

Standing in a corner of the alley,
light leaking from a window,
she gazes longingly
into someone else’s home,
tears of sadness falling from her eyes.

Having lost her shoes,
she walks barefoot on the snow,
clutching her freezing feet,
curling up for a long while,
breathing quietly.

Yet the sky remains unbroken,
large snowflakes falling thick and fast,
softly piling up,
upon the girl’s head,
and upon her heart.

As if carrying her longing,
as if handing over her sigh,
down her cold cheeks
hot tears
slowly stream.

Gently warming the girl’s frozen hands,
placing socks and shoes
upon her bare feet,
brushing the snow
from her head,

Quietly, just as she is,
wiping away her tears,
wrapping her in a warm cloak,
holding her softly,
comforting her for a long while.

That she may never be cold again,
that she may never be sad again,
that warmth may fill her heart—
with this hope
I gaze upon her tenderly.

One winter’s Christmas day,
remind the girl,
remembering the girl
who longed to be happy,
I invite her into my heart.

A table dressed in red and green,
soft lights glowing gently,
delicious food
served on pretty plates,
set before the girl.

A large gift box,
watched with shining eyes,
a radiant smile upon her face—
she delights, feels joy,
and gladly receives it.

If the girl is warm,
my heart is glad.
If the girl smiles,
I smile with her,
and the long winter night is filled with happiness.

*these are my own paintings *