Christmas Not Far From The Holy Land Poem by David Whalen

A fleeting mental picture
Conjured up in young lad’s head
Of shopping malls and Christmas trees
Of warm kitchen and warm bed

anticipation of a great Christmas eve
Of family gathered round the Christmas tree
These pleasant thoughts give reality leave
for a moment he’s home, and again carefree

Harsh reality returns, pushes memories away
helmet is pulled down tight on his head
Near and around him his compatriots lay
Some frightened, some trembling... some dead

Hands shaking, teeth clenched, eyes wet with tears
Blankly staring, without seeing... carnage abounds
Aging by the second, yet still young in years
Will be haunted forever, by War’s savage sounds

On a cold mountainside, somewhere in Afghanistan
Young men are killing and in turn being slain
On Christmas, and not too far from the holy land
One must wonder 'dear God, what do we gain? '

When our boys are back... or their bodies returned home
Afghanistan will return to a country of yore
And Christmas’s will never be the same Christmas's
That our young men knew once before