Ode to a Fleeting Peace

The year was nineteen fourteen then,
A winter cold, for kings and men.
In trenches deep, the soldiers lay,
Where mud and fear held endless sway.
The Christmas bells were soon to chime,
Amidst the misery, the grime.

For months, the guns had roared and boomed,
Across the fields, a deadly doomed
Dance of bullets, shells and pain,
A harvest sown, of loss and stain.
Young men they fell, on either side,
Where hope and innocence had died.

But Christmas Eve, a hush descended,
As if the world its breath suspended.
A German voice, across the wire,
Began to sing, a holy choir
Of "Stille Nacht," so clear and true,
A lullaby for me and you.

The British listened, spellbound, still,
Upon that frozen, blasted hill.
And soon, they sang, a carol back,
Along the well-worn, muddy track.
"The First Noel," a joyful sound,
Across the blood-soaked, furrowed ground.

Then braver souls, with hearts aflame,
Climbed from the trenches, called by name.
"Hello! Are you? Come, come, come!"
And others answered, overcame
The fear, the hatred, and the dread,
To meet the living, not the dead.

They met in No Man's Land that night,
Beneath the stars, so cold and bright.
Exchanged small gifts, of food and drink,
A fleeting moment, blink and think.
Cigars and chocolate, rum and bread,
A fragile peace, instead of dread.

They shared some pictures, told their tales,
Of families, lost in distant vales.
Showed photographs, of wives and sons,
Remembered joy, before the guns.
They played some football, clumsy, free,
A shared humanity to see.

They buried comrades, side by side,
Respect for those who fought and died.
And mourned together, grief their bond,
For lives cut short, beyond, beyond.
They knew this truce, a fragile thing,
That dawn would soon its darkness bring.

For orders came, from those above,
To end the peace, the act of love.
To pick their rifles up again,
To fight, to kill, to wound, to maim.
The Christmas spirit, pushed aside,
By duty, anger, hate, and pride.

The guns then roared, a dreadful sound,
Once more the earth began to pound.
But in their hearts, a memory lay,
Of that brief truce, on Christmas Day.
A glimpse of hope, a world reborn,
Before the coming of the morn.

So let us pause, and remember well,
That fragile peace, that Christmas spell.
And strive to build a world anew,
Where peace and love forever grew.
For even in the darkest night,
A spark of kindness, burns so bright.