Lost
Hello child, why do you search? What have you
lost?
Why are you confused, your thoughts so
crossed?
What keeps you awake at night, what restless
dream?
While the others have slept, where have you
been?
Somewhere deep in your mind, God only knows,
With mysterious thoughts, where anxiety
grows.
What have you lost, what remedy do you
pursue?
Why is your face blank, your happiness
subdued?
Is it because Christmas Day is drawing near?
The season of receiving gifts, the season of
cheer!
Is the pit of your stomach causing you pain?
What bottomless notions are wracking your
brain?
Why is your attention drawn to the tree?
What do you wish? What do you need?
Somewhere in the spirit of giving and
receiving,
Is found the beating heart and soul of
believing.
For Christmas has spread all around the
world,
A joyous time for all the little boys and
girls.
In the South it’s summer, sunshine all
around,
In the North deep snowdrifts covering ground.
Set in anticipation, the Christmas bells are
rung,
The sound of angels heard in the carols sung.
It is time to show gratitude for kindness
received,
To give thanks for the miraculous birth
believed.
Our tables stocked with sweet foods to
savour,
An assortment of goodies packed full of
flavour.
The festive mood leaving minds set in good
stead,
With the abundance of good wishes being read.
But in another place, far, far away from
here,
Something has drowned the sound of cheer.
The little children shedding tears, in
sadness torn,
Their mothers in dark mourning robes adorned.
No father for Christmas, so sadly stolen
away,
No dreams of the reindeer, of Santa and his
sleigh.
Little comfort this season, as the sirens
sound,
To the missiles and bombs that beat the
ground.
The Grinch that has stolen so much love away,
Leaving in its place an empty hole, filled
with pain.
Oh, precious innocence, little hearts filled
with grief,
Struck down with the dreadful burden of
disbelief.
Waking from this awful nightmare, battered
and scared,
Half of their childhood lying in some
graveyard.
When we give thanks, we should remember them,
In their innocence, their childhoods
condemned.
As we learn to feel the burden of their pain,
Trapped in a world of war so bloodstained.
Thanks be to God, His eternal Son so sorely
given,
Born on Christmas Day, His soul so badly
riven.
By a world set against the gracious spirit of
giving,
Banished by mankind from the land of the
living.
Content to divide the world into strange
sects,
Building boundaries between different
dialects.
Putting themselves before the needs of
others,
Turning man against man, brothers against
brothers.
Where the fabric of life is woven on
dissenting looms,
The angels constantly singing the saddest of
tunes.
Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (October 2026)
