| Patriotic Thread |  |
| Simple fibers are spun together
to make a single thread strand.
The threads are then woven together
to make the fabric of our land.
Some threads are blue, some are red,
and some are just plain white.
Regardless of color or place in the weave
each is held by others so tight.
Thirteen stripes and a canton of blue
with fifty bright stars therein.
Representing the colonies who declared independence
and each new state that proudly joined them.
The fabric is strong and able to stand
abuse, misuse and neglect.
Though desecrated, burned, and spat upon,
it hasn't been destroyed, as yet.
But, what of the fabric that's torn and frayed,
the threads that are no longer there.
Can't you see that something is missing,
doesn't anyone care?
A few broken threads, a hole in the fabric,
so what, why be so glum?
Don't say that its nothing a few threads are gone
unless you know where they are from.
From North and South, of East and West
cities and countryside too.
Young men and women, all colors and races,
no different than me or you.
For serving my country, first Navy then Army,
one thread belongs to me.
My father and a brother each has their own thread,
and now one belongs to my niece.
These are the threads spun by parents
who watch as they go out the door.
Fragile and strong, brave and scared,
children but childish no more.
For some the day comes, such terrible news,
from others with uniforms on.
A thread has been broken, tears start to fall,
for their hero, permanently gone.
The Honor Guard carries this comrade in arms,
to a field with a hole in the ground.
Where a family has gathered with strangers and friends,
and Taps is the loneliest sound.
Twenty-one times the rifles are fired,
a tribute to honor the dead.
The folded flag given by a grateful country,
made of beautifully woven strong thread.
Now others go forward, defending this country,
replacing each broken thread-strand.
In daylight or darkness, in sunshine or rain,
in the air, on the oceans, or land.
Each patriotic thread, severed or broken,
since 1775,
Has paid the price in blood and tears,
to help keep our freedom alive. | By Ken B. Harper
Copyright 2005
Listed 10/31/2005 |
|
