|
Whose Broad Stripes And Bright Stars... |  |
|
I've waved my tattered body across many a battlefield.
My proudest moment was being raised up in victory at Mount Suribachi.
Since, I've traveled beyond to the Chosin Reservoir in a place
called Korea.
Seventeen years later,
clutched to the chest of a proud Marine,
I was raised again in the battle of Hue
in a place called Vietnam.
Tattered and charred,
I still stand waving my remnants in pride.
My fabric remains taut with resolve
for the pride instilled in me by my countrymen.
I shall never let them down.
Today, I am carried into new battlefields
in desert and mountain terrain.
Places with names like Iraq and Afghanistan.
I look toward the future with sadness,
knowing I'll once again
wave over the charred and broken bodies of young patriots
and lay witness to the senseless destruction of mankind.
I know nothing of politics or modern day religious beliefs.
I am but a symbol
that has touched the hearts of American children,
when I stood proudly over black slate boards in the classroom.
Little hands pressed against little chests,
pledging their allegiance to me.
I've felt the warm tears of mothers and widows
falling upon me as they gaze across "Gardens of Stone"
in remembrance of brave
husbands, fathers, sons, daughters
who gave their lives fighting to preserve that which is me.
Deeply entrenched in my rectangle of cloth,
I hold for many the feelings of love, hope, pride, joy and courage.
I feel sadness and pain for those who do not know me,
and have instead chosen to dishonor, burn and desecrate me.
From a dark corner of a bamboo cage,
a prisoner of war
searching for some vestige of hope,
seeks and finds me!
Do you know who I am? |
By Gerald Schaefer
Copyright 2008
Listed
July 25, 2008 |
It is illegal to use this poem without the author's permission.
~~ Send your comments and/or use permission request to Gerald. ~~ |
