Christmas On The Ward Poem by Lewis Dever

Christmas in the Ward

The tinsel hangs on plastic trees,
A fragile cheer in memories' breeze.
Faint carols hum through the sterile air,
But the weight of absence lingers there.

Here, time feels softer, yet more cruel,
The clock a quiet, endless duel.
Christmas lights flicker, but they don't glow—
A reminder of a world I used to know.

The nurses' smiles, though kind, can't mend
The ache of missing those who tend
To my heart, now distant, far away,
As I face this quiet holiday.

I picture the laughter, the warmth of the fire,
Stockings hung high, dreams rising higher.
Children's faces aglow with delight,
While I am wrapped in this long, lonesome night.

I see my mother, her steady grace,
Her gentle touch, her loving face.
And my children, their laughter, their light,
My heart breaks anew on this cold, quiet night.

But then I hear a soft, low tune—
A patient maybe singing to the moon.
We join in song, our voices blend,
Strangers turned family, wounds start to mend.

For in this place of aching and pain,
We find small ways to feel whole again.
A shared smile, a story, a prayer for peace,
Moments of warmth as the sorrows cease.

Though I miss them all, I'll hold this true:
I'm healing for me, and for them too.
Next Christmas, perhaps, I'll be home once more,
But for now, I'll find hope on this ward's floor.