This is the flag that gets stepped on, and burned today. Yet it has so much life, so much meaning.  

On this celebration of 240 years, give a look and a salute.  It’s all the years of freedom that we share

Poem CategoriesContributor: SMSgt. Don S. Miller, USAF (Ret.)
My Name Is Old Glory country as flag

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 great institutes of learning.

I stand guard with the greatest military 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 respected.

I am revered. I am loved.

And I am feared.
I have fought every battle of every war for more than 200 years…

Gettysburg, Shilo, Appomatox, San Juan Hill, the trenches of France,

the Argonne Forest, Anzio, Rome, the beaches of Normandy,

the deserts of Africa, the cane fields of the Philippines,

the rice paddies and jungles of Guam, Okinawa, Japan, Korea, Vietnam,

and a score of places long forgotten by all but those who were with me.
I was there!
I led my soldiers.

I followed them.

I watched over them…

They loved me.

I was on a small hill in Iwo Jima.

I was dirty, battle-worn and tired,

but my soldiers cheered me,

and I was proud.
I have been soiled, 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, burned, torn and trampled on the streets of my country,

and when it is by those with whom I have served in battle . . . it hurts. 

But I shall overcome . . . for I am strong.
I have slipped the bonds of Earth

and stand watch over the uncharted new frontiers of space

from my vantage point on the moon.
I have been a silent witness to all of America’s finest hours.

But my finest hour comes

when I am torn into strips to be used for bandages

for my wounded comrades on the field of battle.

when I fly at half mast to honor my soldiers…

and when I lie in the trembling arms

of a grieving mother at the graveside of her fallen son.
I am proud.

My name is Old Glory
Dear God . . . Long may I wave!

Advertisements

About Medicsmurf

I am an ex- NY City Emergency Paramedic. Life brings us new challenges, adventures, and downfalls. I look to making them all a positive way to grow. From here we only go up.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s