Back to Joy

BACK TO JOY

Down the stairs  
my nephew flies. 

The day is here,  
it’s finally arrived. 
He knew it would, he had no doubt. 
He knows what Christmas is all about. 

He weaves his way through hips and thighs, 
lifted elbows and judging eyes. 

For him, all other celebrations, 
they’re practices 
and preparations, 
little Christmas imitations. 

Knees hit the carpet before the tree, 
small eyes and fingers darting free. 

At times it must have seemed far off, 
this little guy, he never scoffed. 
Distracted perhaps by summer and school, 
then pumpkins, turkey, and the weather got cool. 

Colors flashing as tags are read, 
sifted, sorted, and stacked instead. 

Then browns and golds turned reds and greens— 
colors, smells, sounds, and scenes.  
Christmas had come, the world made sense. 
The rest of the year was mere pretense. 

He sits back and grins—job well done. 
Then turns and strains to find his mum.  

I’ve seen him at birthdays, at school, and at play, 
nothing compares to Christmas day. 
But it’s not just the presents, and not just the day; 
the whole season affects him in such a deep way. 

His smile returns as our eyes meet. 
He motions for me to have a seat.  

Where have I lost  
that kind of joy, 
and traded away  
what I had as a boy? 

My magic childhood Christmas dreams, 
the confidence that there was more, 
they grew into ambitious schemes, 
that once achieved became a bore. 
Each successive toy began 
to gather dust and grime. 
Mistaken for the source of joy, 
they could not bear the weight of time. 
But Christmas holds the promise still,   
the reason we all yearn for more. 
Gifts of this life cannot fulfill, 
to point the way is what they’re for. 
When they no longer have to bear 
the weight of all our longings, 
gifts can be enjoyed and lead to where 
in Christ are true belongings. 

We adults,  
we stand around,  
while children live  
where joy is found. 

I gladly put my coffee down   
and joined my nephew on the ground. 

Kirk Manton, “Back to Joy.” The Grace of Rain, Extraordinary Life Publishing, 2016, pp. 74-76.

The featured image, “Opening Christmas blocks,” is courtesy of Lancia E. Smith and is used with her glad permission for Cultivating.

Kirk Manton

Kirk Lloyd Manton is a layman poet. His career path has led him through alternating seasons working inside and outside the church: youth pastor, film lighting freelancer, church production director, film studio COO, and now, communications project manager – back in a church.

Kirk has a bachelor’s degree in religious studies from The Union Institute. His writing was ignited while serving the technical needs of the presenters at C.S. Lewis Foundation events. For twenty years those friendships have inspired and nurtured Kirk’s writing. He continues to recruit and lead volunteer Christian event technicians for his Guild Fellowship.

He has published two books: a poetry/devotional book, The Grace of Rain, and a photo/poetry book, Listening Like Breathing (2018 Texas Authors Association’s Book of the Year for Poetry).

Kirk and his wife Rachelle now live near Akron, Ohio to be near the grand-babies.