Poem: Why the Grinch Stole Christmas

[Donnadogsoth]

Why The Grinch Stole Christmas

You have all perceived the story of the Grinch and his plan
To rob the Who’s in Whoville of their Christmastime élan,
But, have you heard the story that no one told to you,
Of why the Grinch he hated those small and darling Who’s?

Gather close, O Children, and huddle to the fire,
That you might know the truth that painted his desire;
For, not all things are as they seem, and history be sly,
So, hang on tight and learn to see out through a Grinch’s eye…

Long ago, in distant past, the world was green and fey,
And Pagan Grinches frolicked on the Saturnalia Day.
The Grinches’ fur was pink back then, and joyfully they danced,
Conducting nighttime rituals to worship and enchant
The Nature from whose soil they sprung like magic, pink-furred plants,
And back to whom they would return when finished their life’s dance.

But, in a sere land far away a Star shone white and fine
Down brilliantly to tell the Wise of the first Christmastime.
And, slowly, down the centuries the news of Hope arrived:
That Agape [AH-gah-pay] – the love of man – could fill all people’s eyes.

But, some, you see, had tearless eyes, and, so, the news they buried –
Fanatics they became instead of zealots fierce and merry.
And, since they had forgot their names, consumed by selfish malice,
They were called Who’s, who drank as swine out of the Christian chalice.

On one fell day in Wintertime the Grinches pink assembled;
Saturnalia would soon come, and, oh, the Grinches trembled!
The song! The wine! The meat and lust! And, best, the smiling mirth!
As worship they would give unto their sacred Mother Earth.
When, unexpectedly they paused and cocked ears to the wind,
For sounds of queer and buoyant singing that moment did begin…

Over the hills from far away came Who’s in booted march,
With Sword and Cross and flaming torch, and chests out with backs arched.

 

“We come in peace!”

 

 

Their leader cried,
And Grinches came to them, to welcome Strangers to their home…

…And that’s when Grinchdom died…

The Who’s took meat and wine, and looked at all the trappings
Of something they could only see as Death in Pagan wrappings.
They rose and said:

 

 

“Forsake your rites!
“Come to the Cross!
“Do as we say
“Or you are lost!”

 

The pink-hued Grinches stood nonplussed, then started laughing – ho!
This crazy Whoish Army could surely nothing know.
They laughed ‘til they turned purple, and clutched their aching guts,
Not seeing how the Who’s looks darkened into the snarls of mutts!
 

 

“Burn the heathens!”
 

Cried the leader, and his pack of mutts obeyed.
And, in the nightmare of that night, to Mother Grinches prayed.
But, as the awful flames rose up and ate the pink to black
No help did Mother Earth provide, for Hope had turned its back.

And, so, the Grinches perishing, transformed from pink to green,
In envy of the Whoish power, and ‘twas this they screamed:
 

 

“Blackest evil we will be!
“Ye cannot get us all!
“And always plotting sin shall we,
“Until Christmas shall fall!”

 

 

And laughing did the Grinches die, consumed with malice black,
And all the Whoish murderers felt shivers up their backs…

But, for centuries did Who’s march, seeking to spread the news,
And any stray Grinch that they found was forced to speak it too.
These frightened Grinches blended in, and married with the Who’s
Until there was left only one pure Grinch who history knew.

It broke his heart to see the Grinchy race absorbed,
Its history erased from time; its pink and joy, a corpse.
He clutched his chest, but would not die –
For he’d the bluest Grinchy eyes.

That Grinch turned power into pain, that flesh’s loss be spirit’s gain.
 

 

“And I say two can play that game!”

 

 

Frown metamorphosed into smile.
 

 

“Now, all I need’s a Crocodile,
“And a Wolf to stand upon it,
“That they might pull my Sled of Doom,
“And pull me up to my cold room!”
 

 

Crocodiles were hard to find, and Wolves were all extinct;
Instead, he settled for a dog, and up the slopes he slinked.
Thereupon the two they dwelt, Grinch pondering his fate,
And, in time, malice mellowed into joyful hate.

Now, hate is only bad if it be shone at the wrong thing –
A Bald Eagle only flies if it hates to waste its wings.
The Grinch’s hate was bad only because he did not see
That the modern Who’s were zealots, lamblike, fair, and merry.

But, if not for his hate to drive him on to naughty deeds
He never would have sliced Roast Beast upon which he now feeds;
For Agape did triumph on that fateful Christmas day
When Grinch, the would-be Thief, arrived, and for his sins did pay.