A Christmas Poem

[Kymberley]

'Twas 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,

And On The Wall Pictures Of Far Distant Lands.



With Medals And Badges, Awards Of All Kinds,

A Sobering Thought Came To My Mind.

For This House Was Different, So Dark And So Dreary,

The Home Of A Soldier, Now 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 Pictured A United States Soldier.



Was This The Hero Of Whom I’d Just Read?

Curled Up On 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 Freedom Each Month Of The Year,

Because Of The Soldiers, Like The One Lying Here.



I Couldn't 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 Started To Cry.



The Soldier Awakened 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 Soon Drifted To Sleep,

I Couldn't Control It, I Continued To Weep.

I Kept Watch For Hours, So Silent And Still,

And We Both Shivered From The Cold Evening's Chill.



I Didn't Want To Leave On That Cold, Dark Night,

This Guardian Of Honor 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.

 

[Starfish]

Wow Kymberly, thank you.

Can I tell a story in memory of a beloved vet, that I barely knew, but hold the utmost respect for?
I only was blessed to know him for one month, but his story is quite hard to keep quite, because no one else can or will tell it but him, and he is to good to make issue of it. However, I will.

Jimi was a really nice man. He laughed all of the time, and his bright white dentures gleamed in the sunlight as we all sat laughing at the picnic bench in the park.

He was a transient now. His winters he spent in Pheonix, his summers in flagstaff.

He was not alone, but really he was.


Sorry, hold on.....

 

[modest mouse]

This poem seems to have bocome somewhat of an urban legend. I looked into it a bit last year around this time, my memory may not be entirely accurate but...I believe it was written by an American GI who was stationed in Korea at the time.

Good post Kymberley.

If I havnt said it before...I enjoy your voic Kymberley. I do not run into yout posts as much as I would like. You seem willing to say what is on your mind (which seems slightly out of favor on the board recently) while showing better restraint than I.

modest mouse

 

[Kymberley]

Please do StarFishy

 

[Kymberley]

This poem seems to have bocome somewhat of an urban legend. I looked into it a bit last year around this time, my memory may not be entirely accurate but...I believe it was written by an American GI who was stationed in Korea at the time.

Good post Kymberley.

If I havnt said it before...I enjoy your voic Kymberley. I do not run into yout posts as much as I would like. You seem willing to say what is on your mind (which seems slightly out of favor on the board recently) while showing better restraint than I.

modest mouse

A guy at the office sent that to me. I loved it and it reminds me of all we owe those men so willing to die for our freedoms. Thanks for the comments mm.


Speaking my mind does tend to get me in so much trouble though.



Ps. (I am out of favor of the board?) Never knew they cared what I had to say.

 

[EnchantedBeauty]

Wow! Thanks for posting the poem. Makes you think twice about what our soldiers give up for their country.

 

[Starfish]

One day I noticed a tattoo on Jimi's arm. It was right on his inner wrist, a tender place.

It was of an eye, with one tear.

I asked him about it, and he said "Sweetheart, I can't tell you that."

"Oh, it's a secret. Something from the war?" I said in understanding.

"Well, you are just to innocent to hear this all. I'd rather not spoil the innocence that I see in you. I live through that sort of thing if you get my meaning."

I did. I understood but what Jimi didn't know was that I only appear innocent. I knew of the atrocities of the Viet Cong, and I really felt that he deserved to be honored as all vet of the Viet Nam war do. I wanted to honor him by knowing the truth.

I told him that. He started to cry.

It was hard for him, but we took a walk and he began to tell me his story in Nam. He got to the point, after telling me that he had killed many men, but that he was okay after the war, and that he was going to be fine and go on with his life. The VA deemed him healthy and he agreed.


He went on with his life. He lived for a while in an apartment by himself. For a year he lived there. He lived there in silence. Silence about the pain and violence that went on next door to him, all of the time. He stayed silent about the screams and the bashing around. He stayed silent about the bruises and the cuts, and the horrid shyness of the woman who lived there, and the harsh and cold cruelty of the man that was her abuser.

Silent forever, but his handgun was not.

One night, he couldn't bear the screams anymore. He couldn't handle hearing the woman cry helplessly as that man beat her.

He entered the apartment and shot the man in the head at point blank.

He went to prison for it.

He was forced by our government to protect the freedom of women like her, and he lost his freedom for doing it at home.

I love Jimi. Every time I think of him I smile.

I feel better knowing that men like him, who don't divulge the act and requirements of justice just to serve the best interest of a nation, but for that of one individual woman.

The tattoo was his only way to say that what he's seen has moved him deeply.

I don't care what anyone says, that man deserved to die.
He infringed upon that woman’s rights, and she was to weak and broken to fight back.

 

[Kymberley]

Chills, tears, and a smile.

Thanks Fishy.

He did deserve to die. I agree.

 

[Starfish]

I also think Jimi didn't deserve to go to prison.

I realize that killing isn't always the answer, but in the 70's where he lived, the cops didn't care, and social services where less than beneficial for that sort of thing.

He knew the consequences, but I just wish that he hadn't lost so much of his life to prison, not to mention what he endured in the war.

( a little thing I feel like doing)


Jimi, if your still out there, I pray that you are, you are remembered and always will be. My children and their children will know your story and respect your efforts.

Love you man, and thank you.

 

[Bitch_Goddess]

I'm glad this poem is making the rounds again this year. I always read it and felt sad, but this year it really hits home since my military guy will be spending Christmas in an undisclosed location, making this world a safer place.

 

[Pokerman]

This poem seems to have bocome somewhat of an urban legend.

you mean it didn't really happen?