The Sands Of
Christmas
by
Michael Marks
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 Chargers 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 Humvees 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,
“It’s 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.”
From Michael Marks:
“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.”
A Christmas Poem For
All Americans
Santa Is Alive And
Well
Where Is Christmas?
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