I AM ....

Discussion in 'The VMBB Poets' started by Guest, Mar 1, 2003.

  1. Guest

    Guest Guest

    Posts: 47
    (6/14/01 2:13:12 pm)
    Reply | Edit | Del All I AM ....

    I am the flag of the United States of America.
    My name is Old Glory.
    I fly atop the world's tallest buildings.
    I stand watch in America's halls of justice.
    I fly majestically over institutions of learning.
    I stand guard with power in the world.
    Look up and see me.

    I stand for peace, honor, truth and justice.
    I stand for freedom.
    I am confident.
    I am arrogant.
    I am proud.
    When I am flown with my fellow banners,
    my head is a little higher,
    my colors a little truer.
    I bow to no one!
    I am recognized all over the world.
    I am worshipped - I am saluted.
    I am loved - I am revered.
    I am respected -- and I am feared.
    I have fought in every battle of every war for more then 200 years.
    I was flown at Valley Forge, Gettysburg, Shiloh and Appamatox.
    I was there at San Juan Hill, the trenches of France, in the Argonne Forest, Anzio, Rome and the beaches of Normandy, Guam. Okinawa, Korea and KheSan, Saigon, Vietnam know me,
    I was there.
    I led my troops,
    I was dirty, battleworn and tired, but my soldiers cheered me
    And I was proud.

    I have been burned, torn and trampled on the streets of countries I have helped set free.
    It does not hurt, for I am invincible.

    I have been soiled upon, burned, torn and trampled on the streets of my country.
    And when it's by those whom I've served in battle -- it hurts.
    But I shall overcome -- for I am strong.

    I have slipped the bonds of Earth and stood watch over the uncharted frontiers of space from my vantage point on the moon.
    I have borne silent witness to all of America's finest hours.
    But my finest hours are yet to come.

    When I am torn into strips and used as bandages for my wounded comrades on the battlefield,
    When I am flown at half-mast to honor my soldier,
    Or when I lie in the trembling arms of a grieving parent at the grave of their fallen son or daughter,

    I AM.