The Nutcracker
Silence, all my listening children, before this story’s golden blaze;
Silence, all my Christians kneeling, and let all who hear - amaze!
White flakes falling in the silence of the house at night
And the festive lights flickering in the fire’s gracious sight;
A tree in living room bedecked like a royal crown
Shining tinsel in ruby red, with gold it glistens round
the structure of the evergreen, structure ever sound.
The room is ready, ready laid, the hearth is roaring fair,
And merry laughs of Christmasing are joyous, without care.
A sound sounds forth in sparkling song
Of triumph, hark the king who rights all wrongs;
A song that heralds, here comes the first of all the guests,
A song that harks, harks an uncle, him whose loved the best.
A brother cries, at window out he peers to see;
A mother sighs, she smiles at all the memories;
A father ties, and binds the last of the mistletoe;
And daughter flies, to open door, expectant and aglow.
An uncle cometh, begifted and bedecked,
Uncle triumphs, wizard of what’s weird and magickéd.
Unloads he gifts, and gifting loads each member of the band
With oddities, and foreigneries, and bobs from far-off lands.
“Take him here, my little pet,” says uncle to the girl,
“Take him close unto your heart, he’s from another world;”
And to her arms he puts in place a prince of palace wood,
And to her glee she looks to see if on his legs he stood.
Stood he proud, and stood he loud, his coat was shining bright,
His painted buttons all were gold, his coat was blue and light.
His boots were black, his hair was too, and mustache ebony;
His blade was steel, his eyes were real, and stance was majesty.
Yet jaw beyond all jaws was large, and painted on real wood;
His white teeth large, his red lips bright, and he was very good.
“Oh, God, if ever in the humble stable maiden birthed,
I ask for gift of my dear friend, to come to life on earth.”
And if ever God might breath life into the dead,
It would be selfsame night when magi bared his head.
Where once a king came here to walk, another king hast come,
To wage his war upon this land, and waging, overcome!
The drums roll, the trumpets sound, the violins have played,
And at their call, the magic fell, and wood to man unmade;
Is it only dust that takes in breathe, to be the son of God?
What is dust but barest earth; what is wood, but sod?
“I’ve been a stiff, a still sojourner, a sailer on the sea;
Many lands, I’ve dreamed and planned, but all were fantasies.
Stand I now upon the land, manned with locomotion?
Grand I stand upon this land, manned with great emotion!
But where be she who with her breathe, breathed for my release?
Where is maid who breathing prayed, and praying, wood hath ceased?”
Flutes herald the pitter-patter of hurrying feet;
Strings CRACK, and horns softly blend and meet.
Drums quickening, bells tinkling, small claws scurrying;
Squeaking and scuffling, nosing and nudgying,
He looked about, and drew his sword, the nutcracker hurrying.
From hole in wall, his enemies come worrying.
What was this? Mice as great as men! And then he knew -
Dreadful truth upon him then; and yet diminutive, he drew.
He drew, for he had seen his maid: he saw she slept upon the chair.
And they, their fangs and claws - to scratch her - had lain bare.
Her eyes in gentle slumber dreamed within the house,
Safe, never dreaming she was none too small for a mouse.
“Face me beasts, and try to bite, to swill or steal at will,
But I’ll my maiden fain protect. The nutcracker to kill!”
They charge him squealing, and he slices wheeling
Through their ranks, they rank and foul and screaming
And though they stood no taller than the logs,
Their battle burned: it raged, fierce and fury-fogged!
At length the squeaking, at length the shrieking,
At length the sound raised high to maiden sleeping,
And opening her sleepy eyes, the strangest sight she saw.
He’s wood no more. Her precious doll, is fighting, blade to paw.
And from the corner of the room, in royal raiment crowning,
A mouse larger than a cat in size, a mouse is royally coming.
She shrieks, and prince whose fighting, puts up his blade
As mice away; scurry apart for kingly mouse arrayed.
He stops before the little man, and mice come forth, disrobe him;
He strokes his whiskers, grand he grins, and plans a murder grim.
He looks upon the girl enthroned, he looks upon the doll,
He shrugs, and draws, and seems to say, “I’ll kill you, short and tall.”
And baring razor teeth the raging rodent shook.
The nutcracker looks at her, no lover ever looked;
The daughter prays for him, no woman ever prayed;
She prays to babe in manger laid, she’s prayed for him she’s made.
The man who’d come to life that day, that wooden, stalwart man,
Sees God in heaven stand, knows God was dust and man.
They fight! Shine, instruments of deadly glory. The maestro,
in darkened box of Bethlehem, meets his mortal foe,
Orchestrates the dancing feet, and from his mighty seat,
The Mouse King and the Nutcracker, they keep the waltzing beat.
Round and round the festive tree, that Christmas eve, they dance,
A battle brave, a boldened brawl, man and mouse fair matched.
The maiden warily, watching all with fear and awe, saw
No larger knight e’er dared to stare into death’s d’vouring jaws.
Then nutcracker, ablaze in gold and blue, with blade of steel
Steals his mortal meal. He wheels his heel, and death he deals.
The mouse king doubles, the mouse king tumbles,
The mouse king circles, and the mouse king bloody trembles.
But jubilation on the maiden’s lips becomes a warning cry!
The mouse king stumbles to his knees, and stabs the prince behind!
The mumbling many misty mice whisk dying king away,
And maiden mourning for her prince, hears clock chime Christmas day.
Beneath the tree. The earthly trinity; the heavenly nativity;
Joseph lowly, Mary queenly, a babe Who is divinity.
She lifts the tiny man, his tiny body bloodly splays,
Within the manger, upon divinity, she his figure lays.
Two miracles too many to request?
Turning eyes to Heaven’s skies, she makes her heart’s bequest.
And reaching down to bid farewell, to kiss his little face,
She meets his eyes that open wide, and his voice that loudly say’est,
“Have you grown small, oh maiden mine?
I’ve grown large as the divine!”
For for an instant, all at once, all things were selfsame size,
The God-head and the mortal man, Jesus born that dies;
The little, and the grand, the maiden and the wood!
Then fell the veil ‘tween mysteries, and full grown man he stood.
Stood tall, the wooden, tiny man, stood taller than the tree;
Stood tall - nutcracker no more is he, but man as you and me!