If we follow the dictates of custom, we must remember that where custom rules, thought eventually becomes unnecessary.
Friday, December 23, 2011
The True Cost of Freedom
"O beautiful for heroes proved
In liberating strife.
Who more than self their country loved
And mercy more than life!
America! America!
May God thy gold refine
Till all success be nobleness
And every gain divine!
O beautiful for patriot dream
That sees beyond the years
Thine alabaster cities gleam
Undimmed by human tears!
America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!"
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Silent Night
For my brother and sisters who stand watch at the gate so that I can sleep in peace.
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 Dolphins 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
hummers 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 MRE's.
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 about
the things in life that really mean nothing at all, instead of wondering
each day 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.
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 Dolphins 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
hummers 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 MRE's.
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 about
the things in life that really mean nothing at all, instead of wondering
each day 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.
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