Christmas Eve in the Sand Pit

She sees the parting transport jet and hears its fading whine

It’ll touch down in Australia, in about twelve hours time

She knows she’s here to do a job, to serve and not complain

But right now a part of her would rather be on that plane

 

Her tears that now flow freely keeps the fine sand from her eyes

She can’t seem to stem the tide, no matter how she tries

Her mates are all around her and yet she feels so alone

For its Christmas Eve in the Sand Pit and she’s a million miles from home

 

It’s the second festive season, her family has been apart

And poems and prose cannot explain, the aching in her heart

She recalls this time last year, with a painful tear

When she stayed home with precious ones, while her husband was serving here

 

From a canvas shelter, drifts a haunting lullaby

The soft and loving music, soothes the child’s tired cry

She thinks of the first Christmas and she sees the irony

For wasn’t baby Jesus, once a refugee?

 

Each Christmas sees our heroes, serve in some foreign land

Sometimes it’s just to show the flag, sometimes to make a stand

I pray their very presence, may cause all wars to cease

And maybe then one year we’ll have, a Christmas that knows peace

 

By Tomas ‘Paddy’ Hamilton

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FILE PHOTO (Dec 2017): Australian Army Lance Corporal Ella Jones enjoying Christmas festivities at Taji Military Complex, Iraq. Photo by Corporal Steve Duncan.

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Brian Hartigan

Managing Editor Contact Publishing Pty Ltd PO Box 3091 Minnamurra NSW 2533 AUSTRALIA

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