A Soldiers Christmas Visit
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 into a winters delight.
The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.
My eyelids grew heavy; my breathing was deep,
securely surrounded by love I would sleep.
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,
so I started to slumber, perhaps even to dream.
The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near,
but I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.
Maybe just a cough or the wind, I didn't quite know.
Then the sure sound of footsteps came from 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.
There I saw standing in the cold and dark of the night,
a lone figure, his face drawn weary and tight.
A Canadian Soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,
Perhaps an RCR or PPCLI, 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."
"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 Pop died in Europe on a day in December,"
Then he sighed, "That's a Christmas Nan will always remember."
My dad stood his watch in Korea, another far away land,
and now it is my turn and so here I stand.
I've not seen my own son in almost a year,
but my wife sends me pictures, he said with a tear.
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 sisters and brothers
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, "and harbour no fright,
your family is waiting and I'll be all right."
"But isn't there something I can do, at the least,
offer you lodging" I asked, "or prepare you a feast?”
”It seems all too little for all that you've done,
for being away for so long from your wife and your son."
Then down his cheek a single tear fell that held no regret,
"Just tell us you love us, and never forget
to fight for our rights at home while we're gone,
to stand your own watch, just as we stand our out here alone.
For when we come home, either standing or dead,
to know you remembered that we fought and we bled
is payment enough, and with that we will trust,
that we mattered to you just as you mattered to us."
