A Soldier’s Christmas by Michael Marks

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 Nam
And 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 bag
The 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.

 

Intending you peace.