Robin Amy Bass


The is no rhyme in tales of sadness
The is no reason in the worst of times
There is no poetry in deep depression
There is only blame, and guilt, and crimes

There is no mistaking a broken spirit
There is no fixing the cloud of gloom
There is no hope amid false laughter
There is no place among the room

Of voices who are telling stories
Extend your hand – but it feels forced
You try so hard to go unnoticed
You try so hard to stay the course

There is no telling when you’ll feel better
There once was such a love of life
The Christmas Pie is sitting heavy
And you think only of the knife

That cuts a part – divide and conquer
A pie divided will surely fall
And somehow all the sweet turns sour
Until you cannot taste at all

The Christmas of your early childhood
Replaced by Christmas you saw brothers die
There is no Christmas – It’s now over
And Peace on Earth… just one more lie.

And me, I won’t defend this season
For after all, I’m not at war
But I can see why some men do it
And say “enough!” I don’t want more

The hopeful say the sky’s the limit
The hopeless do not make a sound
The heights alone would make them dizzy
It’s safer closer to the ground

There is no rhyme for Christmas Present
And Christmas Past is often near
I squeeze your knee, and say “You ready”
You nod and say, “We’re out of here”