Friday, December 9, 2011

Christmas Poem ... Make a Difference!

                  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 trees, 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 slumbered I, 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 Trooper, 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 our 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, 
                 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 in Europe on a day in December.”

                 Then he sighed.
                 “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 and the white ... a Canadian 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, “harbour 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 mattered to us.”

Christmas will be coming soon  ...
and credit is due to our Canadian service men and women 
for us being able to celebrate these festivities.
Kindly forward this to as many people as you can.
Let's try in this small way to pay respect and honour to what we owe.

Make people stop ... and think of our ...
and those who are not ... who sacrificed themselves for us.

(The foregoing ... with grateful thanks to a Bridge acquaintance)

Merle Baird-Kerr . . . written December 7, 2011
Comments appreciated ... scroll down (may sign in as “anonymous”)
or ...


  1. Merle,

    What a Lovely Christmas sentiment to all those soldiers who are gone but never forgotten and still stand watch over us all.... May we never forget ! Peace be with you all !


  2. Sherrie...The Poem and your comment "say it all"!
    Your constant interest in by writings is So Greatly Appreciated.