Twas the night before Christmas, and half were asleep,
but others were stressing – their debt had grown deep.
Dozens of gifts were wrapped tight by the tree;
Hope there’s gas in the car – ’cause there’s no more money.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
while their parents had bills now that filled them with dread.
The accounts had been drained, every credit line capped –
Not just their wallets, but their spirits were tapped.
When out from the TV there arose such a clatter,
shouting loudly to all that their debt didn’t matter.
A whole nation of people with swagger and sass,
but nothing to show for it – not even cash.
From TikTok to Facebook, from X to Reddit,
all giving a lustre of “must-have” – because we let it.
If only our wandering eyes could make out
the lies in the lure of ambition and clout.
Consumerism’s force is enticing indeed:
It turns every “want” into something we “need.”
As if our lives somehow won’t be complete
unless we give in, buying more to compete.
“Now Visa! Now Mastercard! PayPal and Venmo!
On Google Pay! Apple Pay! Charge it – let’s go!
Gifts to the porch! To the top of the wall!
Deliver them! All of them! Deliver them all!”
We think that the boxes bring comfort and peace,
but they’re placeholders really – a quick stress release.
Our real needs are never inside of a box,
nor ribbons, nor gadgets, nor diamond-cut rocks.
The connection we crave isn’t forged in our gifts;
no price tag can heal all our fractures and rifts.
We’re tricked into thinking that love can be bought,
so we buy every gift – every deal, every “ought.”
And we end up in debt from our head to our foot,
our credit and dignity scorched down to soot.
A bundle of gifts destined straight for the bin,
and we’ll never confess just how deep we are in.
So we smile and we hug and pretend to be merry,
while our bank accounts tremble and budgets are scary.
Our blood pressure rises, our stress level glows,
but we fake that it’s fine – ’cause that’s how it goes.
What’s strange is we think that all this is “normal,”
that they’ve monetized Christmas and made it so formal.
“It makes it more special,” we’ve been sold to believe,
“when you spend more on gifts – don’t be naïve.”
So when truth hits us square in the face with its light,
it feels out of place – too unsettling, too right.
To not buy a gift and just “show up” instead
feels unreal, too simple, and screws with our head.
But the truth is unflinching and will not relent:
the best gift you can give doesn’t cost you a cent.
You won’t find it online nor in any store –
it’s priceless, it’s timeless, it’s gold at its core.
It’s not what you buy – it’s far more what you do:
Give the ones that you love just a little more “you.”
Imagine yourself, and what you’d prefer:
A box with a thing? – or more time with her?
So don’t bother shopping, don’t spend to be clever –
the gift of your “you” will outlast anything, ever.
And I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight –
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”