The
embers glowed softly,
And
in their dim light,I gazed round the room
And I cherished the sight.
My
wife was asleep,
Her
head on my chest,My daughter beside me,
Angelic, in rest.
Outside
the snow fell,
A
blanket of white,Transforming the yard
To a winter delight
The
sparkling lights
In
the tree I believe,Completed the magic
That was Christmas Eve.
My
eyelids were heavy,
My
breathing was deep,Secure and surrounded
By love I would sleep.
In
perfect contentment,
Or
so it would seem,So I slumbered,
Perhaps I started to dream.
The
sound wasn’t loud,
And
it wasn’t too near,But I opened my eyes
When it tickled my ear.
Perhaps
just a cough,
I didn’t quite know,Then the sure sound of footsteps
Outside in the snow.
My
soul gave a tremble,
I
struggled to hear,And I crept to the door
Just to see who was near.
Standing
out in the cold
And
the dark of the night,A lone figure stood
His face weary and tight.
A
soldier, I puzzled,
Some
twenty years old,Perhaps a Marine,
Huddled here in the cold.
Alone
in the dark,
He
looked up and smiled,Standing watch over me,
And my wife and my child.
What
are you doing?
I
asked without fear,Come in this moment,
It’s freezing out here!
Put
down your pack;
Brush
the snow from your sleeve,You should be at home
On a cold Christmas Eve!
For
barely a moment
I
saw his eyes shift,Away from the cold
And the snow blown in drifts . . .
To the window that danced
With a warm fire’s light
Then he sighed and he said,
It’s really all right.
I’m out here by choice.
I’m here every night.
It’s my duty to stand
At the front of the line,
That separates you
From the darkest of times.
No
one had to ask
or
beg or implore me,I’m proud to stand here
Like my fathers’ before me.
My
Gramps died at “Pearl”
On
a day in December,Then he sighed, That’s a Christmas
Gram always remembers.
My
dad stood his watch
In
the jungles of NamAnd now it is my turn
And so, here I am.
I’ve
not seen my own son
In
more than a while,But my wife sends me pictures;
He’s sure got her smile.
Then
he bent and he carefully
Pulled
from his bagThe red, white and blue . . .
An American flag.
I
can live through the cold
And
the being alone,Away from my family,
My house and my home.
I
can stand at my post
Through
the rain and the sleet,I can sleep in a foxhole
With little to eat.
I
can carry the weight
Of
killing another,Or lay down my life
With my sister and brother.
Who stand at the front against any and all,
To ensure for all time
That this flag will not fall.
So
go back inside, he said,
Harbor
no fright,Your family is waiting
And I’ll be alright.
But
isn’t there something
I
can do, at the least,Give you money, I asked,
Or prepare you a feast?
It
seems all too little
For
all that you’ve done.For being away
From your wife and your son.
Then
his eye welled a tear
That
held no regret,Just tell us you love us,
And never forget
To fight for our rights back at home
While we’re gone,
To
stand your own watch,
No
matter how long.For when we come home,
Either standing or dead,
To know you remember
We fought and we bled, is payment enough
And with that we will trust
That we mattered to you
As you mattered to us.
This poem was written by Michael Marks
Christmas
is tomorrow and much credit is due to our U.S. Service men and women for our
being able to celebrate all of the festivities taking place at this time of
year: Hanukkah, Christmas, Kwanza, the beginning of a new year, filled with promise and hope.
Let’s try to pay a tiny bit of
what we owe. Stop, and with heartfelt gratitude, think about our heroes, living
and passed, who have sacrificed themselves for all of us.
