The Poetry Of Christmas
I'm not a poem guy. I like song lyrics. I write song lyrics.
But I've never been one to sit down and enjoy a good poem. I'd rather watch a football game.
Over the years, as an editor, I've received resumes from job applicants, and included in their portfolio are poems. That's the kiss of death for their application.
I don't want poets. I want journalists who can go get news.
Readers often send us poems, which we rarely, if ever, publish. We do annually publish William Randolph Hearst's "The Song of the River." We publish it on the editorial page to commemorate our company founder's death in 1951.
You can find it here if you want to look at it:
http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/opinion/236387_wrhriver14.html
But today, I'm not writing about that poem, or even poems in general.
I'm writing about the one poem I'm willing to put in my blog. It comes from the mother of a soldier serving in Iraq. If this inspires you to send me a poem, just put it in the comment part of this blog entry.
It is a poem of sadness, and I can relate to some sadness regarding a loved one this season, for my dad is lying in intensive care in a Houston facility, the victim of a cruel, surgery-related stroke that has left him paralyzed, dazed and fighting for his life.
I'm not going to write song lyrics about that anytime soon, I hope.
But I am going to give you the poem of a lonely Southeast Texas mother, Cindy Yohe, without her son for this Christmas. I can't imagine the worry that comes from having a child serving in that horrible situation.
Her poem is for all of us who, during a season of joy, have a little sadness in our hearts, a little something missing.
For Lance Corporal Christopher R. Yohe, USMC
currently serving his second tour in Iraq
If I had but one Christmas wish you’d be home this year,
to help me hang the outside lights and trim the tree with cheer.
You’d hold the ladder as I climbed up to place the Santa at the top,
kidding me that the tree’s too big and this obsession has to stop.
You’d make your famous green bean dish…never reveling your secret spice,
and ensure that our turkey was the largest bird that the store had pound for price.
You’d give me the perfect Christmas card, wrap the presents and tie the bows,
and make it all seem like it’s no big deal but a mother always knows.
I know you that you won’t be coming home to help me with the tree.
I know that you’ll miss the time we share with our friends and family.
I know that what you’re doing now is the most important thing you’ve done,
and that this Christmas I won’t be the only mom without her Marine Corps son.
I will set a place for you at our table and ask for your safety in our dinner prayer,
The same words I’ve prayed for all our troops who are serving with you there.
And if I have but one Christmas wish you’ll be home next year,
to help me hang the outside lights and trim the tree with cheer.
But I've never been one to sit down and enjoy a good poem. I'd rather watch a football game.
Over the years, as an editor, I've received resumes from job applicants, and included in their portfolio are poems. That's the kiss of death for their application.
I don't want poets. I want journalists who can go get news.
Readers often send us poems, which we rarely, if ever, publish. We do annually publish William Randolph Hearst's "The Song of the River." We publish it on the editorial page to commemorate our company founder's death in 1951.
You can find it here if you want to look at it:
http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/opinion/236387_wrhriver14.html
But today, I'm not writing about that poem, or even poems in general.
I'm writing about the one poem I'm willing to put in my blog. It comes from the mother of a soldier serving in Iraq. If this inspires you to send me a poem, just put it in the comment part of this blog entry.
It is a poem of sadness, and I can relate to some sadness regarding a loved one this season, for my dad is lying in intensive care in a Houston facility, the victim of a cruel, surgery-related stroke that has left him paralyzed, dazed and fighting for his life.
I'm not going to write song lyrics about that anytime soon, I hope.
But I am going to give you the poem of a lonely Southeast Texas mother, Cindy Yohe, without her son for this Christmas. I can't imagine the worry that comes from having a child serving in that horrible situation.
Her poem is for all of us who, during a season of joy, have a little sadness in our hearts, a little something missing.
For Lance Corporal Christopher R. Yohe, USMC
currently serving his second tour in Iraq
If I had but one Christmas wish you’d be home this year,
to help me hang the outside lights and trim the tree with cheer.
You’d hold the ladder as I climbed up to place the Santa at the top,
kidding me that the tree’s too big and this obsession has to stop.
You’d make your famous green bean dish…never reveling your secret spice,
and ensure that our turkey was the largest bird that the store had pound for price.
You’d give me the perfect Christmas card, wrap the presents and tie the bows,
and make it all seem like it’s no big deal but a mother always knows.
I know you that you won’t be coming home to help me with the tree.
I know that you’ll miss the time we share with our friends and family.
I know that what you’re doing now is the most important thing you’ve done,
and that this Christmas I won’t be the only mom without her Marine Corps son.
I will set a place for you at our table and ask for your safety in our dinner prayer,
The same words I’ve prayed for all our troops who are serving with you there.
And if I have but one Christmas wish you’ll be home next year,
to help me hang the outside lights and trim the tree with cheer.
posted by Brian Pearson at 5:03 PM
2 Comments:
I just stopped by to wish you a Merry Christmas. I'm sorry to hear about your father. I'll put him and your family in my thoughts this holiday and wish for his recovery.
Ivy
Thank you Brian,
You provided an outlet for my family and I to share with your readers the feelings so many military familes have at this time of year. And my prayers will be extended this Christmas to include your father. One thing that I will never lose is hope...hope that our troops will be brought home safely. No matter my feelings of our involvement in Iraq I will always support our troops until they are all brought home. Have hope for your father's recovery...someone once said, "Never take away someone's hope....that might be all they have."
With respect, Cindy Yohe
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