Something to think about.

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,



ON THE WALL HUNG PICTURES



OF FAR DISTANT LANDS.







WITH MEDALS AND BADGES,



AWARDS OF ALL KINDS,



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 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 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 NIGHT'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.



"MERRY CHRISTMAS MY FRIEND,



AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT"






This poem was written by a Marine stationed in Okinawa Japan.