SiteRing by Bravenet.com

Please support Soldiers' Angels and Project Valour-IT

This is a re-post from last year; it's still excellent. Thank you Subsunk for reminding me about it (Do read his related post.)

---

A SOLDIER'S CHRISTMAS

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 eye 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 “Its really all right,
I’m out here by choice. I’m here every night”

“Its 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 sisters and brothers
who stand at the front against any and all,
to insure 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 all right.”
“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.”

©Copyright December 07, 2000 by Michael Marks

Author’s Notes:

A Soldier's Christmas was the first in this series of patriotic writings, drafted on Pearl Harbor Day 2000 when in the wake of the 2000 Presidential Election our nation saw the right of US Armed Forces personnel openly questioned and debated. I felt it unconscionable that at the onset of the Christmas season, those serving to defend our nation would hear anything but our love and support. It is our challenge to stand for their rights at home while they stand for our lives and safety overseas. This poem went out and quickly spread around the world in emails, letters, magazines. I received letters from Marines in Bosnia, soldiers in Okinawa, from a submariner who xeroxed a copy for everyone on his sub. Moms wrote, dads, brothers and sisters. I have saved and cherish every letter and set out to continue writing throughout the year.

I was thinking about our servicemen overseas this Holiday Season and wrote the following in hope of bringing a small bit of Christmas cheer to active duty and veterans alike ... just a humble thanks and "God Bless." Please feel free to pass it along or post it as you see fit. Thank you.

Happy Holidays,
Michael Marks

---

Sources: here and here.

Posted by Bill Faith on December 7, 2005 at 05:01 PM in Christmas, Michael_Marks, Poetry | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack

This is a repeat from last year but it's still just as beautiful and just as appropriate this year as it was then. Enjoy.

---

THE SANDS OF CHRISTMAS

I had no Christmas spirit when I breathed a weary sigh,
and looked across the table where the bills were piled too high.
The laundry wasn’t finished and the car I had to fix,
My stocks were down another point, the Dolphins lost by six.

And so with only minutes till my son got home from school
I gave up on the drudgery and grabbed a wooden stool.
The burdens that I carried were about all I could take,
and so I flipped the TV on to catch a little break.

I came upon a desert scene in shades of tan and rust,
No snowflakes hung upon the wind, just clouds of swirling dust.
And where the reindeer should have stood before a laden sleigh,
eight hummers ran a column right behind an M1A.

A group of boys walked past the tank, not one was past his teens,
Their eyes were hard as polished flint, their faces drawn and lean.
They walked the street in armor with their rifles shouldered tight,
their dearest wish for Christmas, just to have a silent night.

Other soldiers gathered, hunkered down against the wind,
To share a scrap of mail and dreams of going home again.
There wasn’t much at all to put their lonely hearts at ease,
They had no Christmas turkey, just a pack of MREs.

They didn’t have a garland or a stocking I could see,
They didn’t need an ornament-- they lacked a Christmas Tree.
They didn’t have a present even though it was tradition,
the only boxes I could see were labeled “ammunition.”

I felt a little tug and found my son now by my side,
He asked me what it was I feared, and why it was I cried.
I swept him up into my arms and held him oh so near
and kissed him on the forehead as I whispered in his ear.

There’s nothing wrong my little son, for safe we sleep tonight,
our heroes stand on foreign land to give us all the right,
to worry on the things in life that mean nothing at all,
instead of wondering if we will be the next to fall.

He looked at me as children do and said its always right,
to thank the ones who help us and perhaps that we should write.
And so we pushed aside the bills and sat to draft a note,
to thank the many far from home, and this is what we wrote,

God bless you all and keep you safe, and speed your way back home.
Remember that we love you so, and that you’re not alone.
The gift you give you share with all, a present every day,
You give the gift of liberty and that we can’t repay.

©Copyright December 2003 by Michael Marks

Author’s Notes:

Christmas tugs at the heart more so than any other time of the year and in 2003 I found myself watching the news and reflecting on the young men and women facing a very different Christmas than those we knew here at home. Once again, I wrote with the hope of sharing how much America appreciates the service that keeps us safe, and how much we pray for the safe homecoming of all who serve

I affirm that I am the author and that I freely submit this poem for reprint without reservation-- this is an open and grateful tribute to the men and women who serve every day to keep our nation safe. -- Michael Marks

---

Please, this year as you enjoy the holiday season, will you pause and remember our debt to our Warriors past and present, and remember them in your prayers?

A tip of the hat to my friend and fellow Battle of Kontum vet William "1stCav" Page for emailing me this. I was curious about the title, which had apparently been lost as the poem was mailed from friend to friend around the web, and about whether the author had provided any background information when it was first published, so I searched Google for the original.  The version I've posted above is posted here in the International War Veterans' Poetry Archives. I copied the author's comments from there and from  this page at Jack's Joint. 

Posted by Bill Faith on December 2, 2005 at 09:49 PM in Christmas, Michael_Marks | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

In my email. What better way to start the Christmas season?

---

Christmas Wish

“There’s no such thing as Santa,” jeered the group of older boys
“there isn’t any reindeer, any elves or magic toys.”
“Oh yes there is” I cried aloud, my little fists curled tight,
“He’s on his way with loaded sleigh to visit us tonight.”

“I made the most important wish a boy could ever make
and I’ve been good for oh so long, been good for goodness sake.”
And though the tears burned in my eyes, I swore I wouldn’t cry,
I didn’t want to be a man, but promised dad I’d try.

That night was spent, just mom and me, like many nights before;
the house was never quite the same since dad went off to war.
We had our Christmas dinner and we sang O Holy Night,
We read about that meany Grinch and cheered when he did right.

But sadness showed within Mom’s eyes as she stood by my bed,
and tucked the covers to my chin and kissed me on the head.
“Don’t worry mom,” I whispered “things are gonna be all right.”
“We’re sure to get our Christmas Wish when Santa comes tonight.”

I tried my best to stay awake and listen to the roof,
for telltale ring of jingle bells or clop of reindeer hoof.
But snug and warm it wasn’t long before I gave a yawn,
And would have gone to sleep but for the noise out on the lawn.

Then came the clump of heavy boots across the hardwood floor,
the tread somehow familiar like I’d heard it once before.
As quiet as a mouse I crept, my eyes flew wide to see
the silhouette that stood alone before the Christmas tree.

His frame was lean and fit, he had no belly big and round,
the heavy sack a duffle that he placed upon the ground.
He didn’t wear a stitch of red, the uniform was green,
And not a single jingle bell, just medals could be seen.

And then the strongest arms on earth wrapped ‘round and held me tight,
and I knew then that Santa really rode on Christmas night,
and Christmas Wishes did come true, just like I knew they had,
For Santa came on Christmas night and brought me home my dad.

Michael Marks

With my fondest wish for every man and woman who serves to keep this nation safe, and the loving families who wait at home for your return. God speed you home safe and sound to our waiting arms.

---

***

Linking to Mudville's latest Open Post.

Posted by Bill Faith on November 24, 2005 at 08:28 PM in Christmas, Michael_Marks | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack