Old Glory

Recenty I heard a news story regarding a teacher in South Carolina who removed an American flag from the wall, placed it on the floor, and proceeded to stomp on it. His point was that it is only a piece of cloth and doesn't mean anything.Well, kudos to the school principal for putting him on administrative leave. That principal was a military veteran. He knows what it means to pay a price for freedom. I guess that teacher does not.

I wrote this poem a few years ago in response to a similar situation.

The Soul of Old Glory

by Barbara Latta

 

Old Glory started out with needle and thread

pieces of cloth of white, blue, and red.

The standard was carried and waved over battle,

It's waved over graves and political prattle.

The message was clear, "it's freedom I won,

paid with the blood of your daughters and sons."

 

So honored was that banner that it never touched the ground,

even in battles with bullets all around.

When the bearer would fall another would rise

to carry Old Glory lest we see its demise.

So revered was the flag whose message would wave

that it sight over land, over sea, or the grave

would inspire Americans to fight and pursue

to never give up, do what we must do,

To defeat the foes who challenged and taunted

to chase and defeat our enemies, undaunted.

 

It's waved until tattered, soiled and torn

It's waved in the face of the enemy's scorn.

For with each tatter and tear a drop of blood would cry,

and Old Glory would wave and continue to fly.

The flags that have flown over past victory posts

are now carefully preserved lest their history be lost.

But locked in their glass cases has the meaning behind

Old Glory's message made some people blind?

 

For to some it's just a nice history relic

to wave over fields where we play and we frolic.

For now the banner of freedom is spit on and burned,

and so few care that Old Glory is spurned.

They use "freedom of speech" as an excuse to abuse

forgetting how easily that freedom they could lose.

 

Old Glory waves on the grave's sacred soil

asking "why do you hurt me, do you forget my toil?

I am the symbol for you to give you the right to do what you do.

I welcome the foreigner with open arms

to come enjoy my freedoms and flee from harm.

So why do you curse me and say it's an offense

to wave me and fly me, it makes no sense?"

 

Old Glory's cry in days gone by

of victory and freedom, has it been a lie?

No, for you see the soul of Old Glory is the people of her land,

the ones who dare to still take a stand.

For on many hillsides plains and sands

arises a shining, victorious band

of those whose yearning for freedom will never be lost,

it's the ones who have paid a price

the ones who love it the most.