Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts

Thursday, December 18, 2008

A Salute To Our Soldiers, Long But Worth It!

A DIFFERENT CHRISTMAS POEM

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 at 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 said 'It's really alright
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 Harbor 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. . . 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 his 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 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.'

LCDR Jeff Giles, SC, USN - 30th Naval Construction Regiment - OIC, Logistics Cell One, Al Taqqadum, Iraq

This is what was asked of me: "PLEASE, would you do me the kind favor of sending this story to as many people as you can? Christmas will be coming soon and some credit is due to our U.S. Service men and women for our being able to celebrate these festivities. Let's try in this small way to pay a tiny bit of what we owe. Make people stop and think of our heroes, living and dead, who sacrificed themselves for us."

I am proud to post this and hope you will read it, share it, and say a prayer for our soldiers this Christmas.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Remembering Our Veterans

Today is Veterans Day here in the United States, and I can think of no better way to honor the men and women who have served our country throughout the years than to share with you a wonderful poem. This poem was written by my very dear friend, Msgr. Charles R. Fink, who is now a catholic priest and in charge of the spiritual formation of the young men entering the priesthood in our diocese. Back in his early twenties, Msgr. Fink served our country as an infantry soldier during the Vietnam War. He was injured during an ambush, but continued to serve after recovering. He is a hero to me, as are all the men and women who have served our country and put themselves in harm's way to keep us safe. This poem is a beautiful expression of the bond and commitment these soldiers have for one another. I hope you will share it with those you love today as you remember our service men and women. Please be sure if you do copy the poem, that you credit the author, Msgr. Charles R. Fink, this is not my own writing, but his, and I have received his permission to use his work here.

Bury Me with Soldiers

I’ve played a lot of roles in life;
I’ve met a lot of men;
I’ve done some things I’d like to think
I wouldn’t do again.
And though I’m young, I’m old enough
To know someday I’ll die,
And think about what lies beyond,
Beside whom I would lie.

Perhaps it doesn’t matter much;
Still, if I had my choice,
I’d want a grave ‘mongst soldiers when
At last death quells my voice.
I’m sick of the hypocrisy
Of lectures by the wise.
I’ll take the man, with all his flaws,
Who goes, though scared, and dies.

The troops I knew were commonplace:
They didn’t want the war;
They fought because their fathers and
Their fathers had before.
They cursed and killed and wept—God knows
They’re easy to deride—
But bury me with men like these;
They faced the guns and died.

It’s funny, when you think of it,
The way we got along.
We’d come from different worlds
To live in one no one belongs.
I didn’t even like them all;
I’m sure they’d all agree.
Yet I would give my life for them,
I hope; some did for me.

So bury me with soldiers, please,
Though much maligned they be.
Yes, bury me with soldiers, for
I miss their company.
We’ll not soon see their like again;
We’ve had our fill of war.
But bury me with men like them
Till someone else does more.

--Charles R. Fink (Vietnam 3/69-3/70, 199th LIB)