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New Year's Eve in a Foxhole |
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New Year comes as an eagle flies, on wings of morning
Death surrounding you in foxhole lying
Fearing, devoid of hope, the enemy watching
Out there scheming of your departing
His greatest midnight dream of reuniting
You with dust from whence you came
Breathing caustic hatred's blame
Fetid enmity passing in air same-same.
New Year bells ring out around the world
Tolling of peace on earth unfurled
The raucous sound brings in new year mirth
Celebrating new year's rebirth
When old sins are washed away
Listen, listen, to bells on steeples play?
Is it too much today
To dream the killing stay away?
Grim death surrounds soldiers in foxholes lying
Fearing, devoid of hope, the enemy watching
Out there shadowing you, preoccupied with your dying
Hellish booby traps laying, to you dedicating
In a world gone so terribly wrong
Where the very breeze wails war's discordant song
Ghosts of fallen brothers pass before bone weary eyes
Nightmares from war's nocturnal review rise.
The new year brings to "boys next door" renewed hope
For only with abiding hope can he with battle cope
Casting war's decrepit mistakes and blunders by
Things done which make you wonder, why?
Why old soldiers of war feel sorely blue
Hoping their children will cruel war eschew
Knowing that sacrifice for them in damps and dew
To the good life renew.
Learn war's lessons exceeding plain
So no more will sin and error reign
Bringing fear and memories wicked pain
Old soldiers hope children of the new year learn
Objectionable tares discern
Learning not too quickly societies bridges to burn
To not doom innocents our same old mistakes to repeat
Burdened with war's unimaginable horrors replete.
O soldier boys by war ill used
Mind and body sore abused.
Who very honor accused
Escort out the old year's venerable old man
Who did his best with sickle or M-16 in his rough hand
Support him, but greet the dawn of a new day without him
Begin this day of new beginnings in every way.
New Years Day is the circle of life renewing...
Harvest accomplished with the ripening...
Plow under old lands made new for the planting
Where tarnished fields yield up fruit gathering
Where there is no battle in bloodletting fray
Rejuvenate your veteran soul today.
Learn to plant good will
When you can, forget that napalmed jungle still.
For this too will pass
This day of hurt and fearful danger will not last
So give nurturing sustenance to the world
Give brotherly love and good will unfurled
Learn to vent enmity's anger
Learn you do not have to be the world's savior.
Celebrate the advent of the New Year
Welcome joyous rebirth most dear.
See that bright future you are now sowing
See unborn children before you growing
The tree of life with new fruit bearing
The old world made new and shining.
Ye verily, comes a rapturous reawakening
Devoid of past war's strife and worrying.
Answer the question "When will they ever learn?"... Now!
Turn swords into pruning hooks, or the plow.
Make resolution to build, not destroy
Fill the world with peace for every girl and boy.
Discard the warrior's ways
Living for peace all your days.
Learn from dark dreary past
To grow with the path for your life cast
Retaining only gained wisdom
Learn from that, for those who do not learn, succumb.
In this new year dare to dream
Dream of a brave new life which souls redeem
Make barren the seeds of war
Within a violent warrior's heart sown
Arise to plant them no more
Plant only fruit bearing seeds with an eye on the throne
Make of life's garden a wondrous place
See only our loving Master's peaceful face. |
By
Gary Jacobson
Copyright 2005
Listed
December 21, 2010 |
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About
Author...
In 1966-67, Gary Jacobson served with B Co
2nd/7th 1st Air Cavalry in Vietnam as a combat infantryman and is the recipient of the Purple
Heart.
Gary, who resides in Idaho writes stories he
hopes are never forgotten, perhaps compelled by
a Vietnamese legend that says, "All poets are
full of silver threads that rise inside them as
the moon grows large." So Gary says he
writes because "It is that these silver
threads are words poking at me � I must let them
out. I must! I write for my brothers who cannot
bear to talk of what they've seen and to educate
those who haven't the foggiest idea about the
effect that the horrors of war have on
boys-next-door."
Visit Gary Jacobson's site for more information
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