A Christmas Poem

[Andrew_Smith]

I received this as an email at work today, it is alledgedly written by an Australian peacekeeper in Timor;

T'WAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS,
HE LIVED ALL ALONE,
IN A ONE BEDROOM HOUSE,
MADE OF PLASTER AND STONE.

I HAD COME DOWN THE CHIMNEY,
WITH PRESENTS TO GIVE,
AND TO SEE JUST WHO,
IN THIS HOME, DID LIVE.

I LOOKED ALL ABOUT,
A STRANGE SIGHT I DID SEE,
NO TINSEL, NO PRESENTS,
NOT EVEN A TREE.

NO STOCKING BY MANTLE,
JUST BOOTS FILLED WITH SAND,
ON THE WALL HUNG A PICTURE,
OF FAR DISTANT LANDS.

WITH MEDALS AND BADGES,
AWARDS OF ALL KIND,
A SOBER THOUGHT,
CAME THROUGH MY MIND.

FOR THIS HOUSE WAS DIFFERENT,
IT WAS DARK AND DREARY,
I FOUND THE HOME OF A SOLDIER,
ONCE I COULD SEE CLEARLY.

THE SOLDIER LAY SLEEPING,
SILENT, ALONE,
CURLED UP ON THE FLOOR,
IN THIS ONE BEDROOM HOME.

THE FACE WAS SO GENTLE,
THE ROOM IN SUCH DISORDER,
NOT HOW I HAD PICTURED,
AN AUSTRALIAN SOLDIER.

WAS THIS THE HERO,
OF WHOM I'D JUST READ?
CURLED UP IN A PONCHO,
THE FLOOR FOR A BED?

I REALIZED THE FAMILIES,
THAT I SAW THIS NIGHT,
OWED THEIR LIVES TO THESE SOLDIERS,
WHO WERE WILLING TO FIGHT.

SOON ROUND THE WORLD,
THE CHILDREN WOULD PLAY,
AND GROWNUPS WOULD CELEBRATE,
A BRIGHT CHRISTMAS DAY.

THEY ALL ENJOYED THEIR FREEDOM,
EACH MONTH OF THE YEAR,
BECAUSE OF THE SOLDIERS,
LIKE THE ONE LYING HERE.

I COULD NOT HELP WONDER,
HOW MANY LAY ALONE,
ON A COLD CHRISTMAS EVE,
IN A LAND FAR FROM HOME.

THE VERY THOUGHT BROUGHT,
A TEAR TO MY EYE,
I DROPPED TO MY KNEES,
AND I STARTED TO CRY.

THE SOLDIER AWAKEND,
AND I HEARD A ROUGH VOICE,
"SANTA DON'T CRY,
THIS LIFE IS MY CHOICE;

I FIGHT FOR FREEDOM,
I DON'T ASK FOR MORE,
MY LIFE IS MY GOD,
MY COUNTRY, MY CORPS."

THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER,
AND DRIFTED TO SLEEP,
I COULDN'T CONTROL IT,
I STARTED TO WEEP.

I KEPT WATCH FOR HOURS,
SO SILENT AND STILL,
AND WE BOTH SHIVERED,
FROM THE NIGHTS COLD CHILL.

I DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE,
ON THAT COLD, DARK, NIGHT,
THID GUARDIAN OF HONOUR,
SO WILLING TO FIGHT.

THEN THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER,
WITH A VOICE SOFT AND PURE,
WHISPERED "CARRY ON SANTA,
IT'S CHRISTMAS DAY, ALL IS SECURE."

ONE LOOK AT MY WATCH,
AND I KNEW HE WAS RIGHT,
"MERRY CHRISTMAS MY FRIEND,
AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT."

[stephen]

That was cool. Thank you.

PS-read something the other day, referring primarily to that class of brilliant people who had more freedom than anyone else in the world and managed to give it away... Americans;

"Most people don't even know what freedom is. And since they don't know what it is, they don't realize that they've lost it. And since they don't know that they've lost it, they don't care about getting it back."

[mike_baram]

Stephen,
Can you supply a source for that quote? It's time to change the intro on my web page and this would do just fine.
Mike

[stephen]

Yes, Mike, but it may take a few days. I'm chasing my tail terribly getting ready for N Africa, so please email me a reminder... daily if need be. I can find it though, I think. BTW, I lost your web address; please send that as well. Thanks.

[Kirby]

" You have never lived till you have almost died. For those who had to fight for it, freedom has a flavor the protected will never know."

Andrew,
The poem says it all brother!

Kirby,
AMEN! I really know and appreciate my liberty, and it is so sweet.

Stephen,
Therein lieth the lesson for future generations.
VBR,
Jim

[mike_baram]

Stephen,
It's www.slip.net/~netmaven
Check it out, Gang....increment my counter in the spirit of the holidays.
Mike

Bitt meine Herren

Weit in der Champagne im Mittsommergrün
Dort wo zwischen Grabkreuzen Mohnblumen bühn
Da flüstern die Gräser und wiegen sich leicht
Im Wind, der sanft über das Gräberfeld streicht
Auf Deinem Kreuz finde ich, toter Soldat
Deinem Namen nicht, nur Zeffern und Jemand hat
Die Zahl neunzehnhundertundsechszehn gemalt
Und Du warst nicht einmal neunzehn Jahre alt.

Ja, auch Dich haben sie schon genauso belogen
So wie sie es mit uns heute immer noch tun
Und Du hast ihnen alles gegeben,
Deine Kraft, Deine Jugend, Dein Leben

[stephen]

Couldn't email this to you 'cause my puter won't pick it up off a site. Sorry.

"How will we tell our children that freedom died because we did not have the courage to keep our weapons? Each of us will someday face the choice—fight or surrender. We cannot even run, because America was the last refuge." - James R. Jarret