There are many poems about the holiday season—some beloved Christmas carols, notably “O Little Town of Bethlehem,” started off as poems later on set to song; and “A Visit from St. Nicholas,” by Clement Clarke Moore, remains a classic Christmas Eve read for those who wish to spend a more literary holiday. But if one plunges deep into Philippine literature, one will find a curious dearth of poetry about Christmas or the New Year. Which is strange, because Christmas is so much a part of the Filipino soul, and so much a part of our cultural fabric that we have even come to claim the longest Christmas season of all in the world, starting from the very first day of September until Noche de Reyes [or Night of the Three Kings] in January 6. Notwithstanding the occasional sophomoric poetic drivel young writers publish in the “Christmas Issues” of school publications, Christmas or New Year poetry has never been a staple in our literature. Asked why this is so, the poet Merlie Alunan had this to say: “Pilit kaayo nga topic, lisod badbaron. Handomon, bation, di lang sulaton.”

Pilit kaayo, lisod badbaron—handomon, bation, di lang sulaton. The focus is too narrow, the topic is too difficult to untie, to let breathe. It needs depths of memory, it needs depths of feeling—aside from the fact that it needs to be written well. True enough, but writing about Christmas and the New Year—especially the New Year—can be challenging because it comes with a baggage of themes that are, for the most part, clichés: the New Year often revolves around themes of renewal, hope, and resolutions, and these topics can feel overused or trite, making it difficult to approach them in a fresh or meaningful way. There is also often the pressure of optimism, an expectation of celebration, which can feel limiting, especially if you’re in a more introspective or somber mood that doesn’t align with societal expectations.  There’s also the fact that whatever inspiration to write about the New Year deals with something that is, for the most part, ephemeral—the New Year is a fleeting moment, often overshadowed by holiday fatigue or distractions, and capturing its essence poetically requires quick yet thoughtful reflection, which can be hard to balance.

It is also a project that deals with something abstract, since writing about the passage of time or the transition between years often can feel intangible, and conveying these abstract concepts in a vivid or relatable way can take significant creative effort. There is also that battleground of the personal vs. the universal one has to enter when writing about the New Year, which as a celebration can be deeply personal, and as a holiday can be marked by individual milestones and emotions—and yet it is also a collective experience. Striking the right balance between personal authenticity and universal appeal can be tricky. And since New Year happens every year, not unique to anyone celebrating it, writing about it can be challenged by the expectation of novelty: a New Year poem might feel like it demands innovation to match the idea of “newness,” adding pressure to avoid repeating familiar ideas or structures we have already read before. 

That said, we still have poets in our midst who do still try to reflect poetically on the New Year. Here is one by the Bais City poet Simon Anton Diego Baena first published in the Winter 2021 issue of The Adirondack Review:

Year End

I wonder if the fuel is enough
to reach the island before dawn

but the water is not moving

months go by like the bruised knee
of a kneeling child

sometimes God does not listen
he only starts the rain

and the city sleeps

the bell tolls
someone keeps knocking at the door

the family gathers after a funeral
as usual

when there are no fireworks
in the night sky

The poem captures so well the somber tone of reflection and inevitability that often accompanies the close of a year, and its themes are woven around mortality, uncertainty, faith, and the absence of joy, all explored with quiet introspection. The opening lines, “I wonder if the fuel is enough / to reach the island before dawn,” evoke a sense of doubt and yearning. The “island” seems to symbolize a place of solace or escape, while the uncertainty about having “enough” to reach it mirrors the speaker’s vulnerability and limitations. This sense of stagnation is reinforced by the line, “the water is not moving,” suggesting a life stuck in place, unable to progress.

Throughout the poem, images of grief and pain are recurrent. The metaphor of time passing like ”the bruised knee of a kneeling child” vividly conveys a sense of prolonged, unhealed suffering. Loss is ever-present, as seen in the gathering of family “after a funeral / as usual,” which highlights the routine nature of tragedy in the speaker’s life. The absence of fireworks in the night sky further emphasizes a lack of celebration or hope, reinforcing the subdued mood of the piece. The “bell tolls” and persistent “knocking at the door” symbolize mortality and unresolved calls for attention, adding an air of inevitability to the poem’s exploration of life’s transient nature.

The speaker’s struggle with faith is evident in the line, “sometimes God does not listen.” This poignant admission reflects a feeling of divine indifference, compounded by the observation that “he only starts the rain.” While rain often symbolizes renewal, here it appears as a force that adds to the city’s stillness, amplifying the sense of desolation. The structure of the poem, too, with its short, fragmented lines and lack of punctuation, creates a rhythm that mirrors the hesitant, reflective tone of the speaker’s thoughts.

Overall, Baena’s “Year End” examines the weight of grief, the cyclical nature of life, and the unfulfilled yearning for movement and solace. It leaves readers with a lingering sense of stillness and resignation, encapsulating the emotional complexity of endings and transitions.

Baena hails from Bais City, Negros Oriental, and is the author of two chapbooks, The Magnum Opus Persists in the Evening [published by Jacar Press] and The Lingering Wound [published by 2River]. He was a semi-finalist for the Tomaz Salamun Prize at VERSE in 2021. A prolific poet, his work is forthcoming in The Columbia Review, South Dakota Review, Hawaii Pacific Review, Apalachee Review, Louisiana Literature, and elsewhere. Asked why he wrote the poem, Baena says: “I wrote the poem during the pandemic lockdown. Back then, you get daily updates of COVID deaths and infections. Really, really a surreal time to be alive, as if there was no future, everything we do was in some kind of a limbo. Everything we did was in some kind of a limbo. The title reflects all the uncertainties that await us in the new year. As if everything repeats itself with the ongoing lockdowns back then.”

A somber reflection to start the year with, but here’s to uncertainty. May we face it bravely in the New Year.