America, Here
Stan Armistead
You are spoken of often,
America.
Your name comes up
Around wine and the smell
of cigars,
Around attempts at greatness
and
The awarding of Silver
Stars.
You are carried tall in
sunlight.
Small children pledge
themselves to you.
I've seen you many times,
America.
In forest and across green
fields.
You gleam in our
grandmothers’ eyes.
You speed the locomotives.
You drip from the veins of
your people.
Soldiers hold you wearing
white gloves.
Bad things are done,
sometimes,
In your name, America.
People wearing your face
Have done grievous things.
But we know,
You were never with them,
You were busy elsewhere,
Creating something good.
You are huge.
We all enjoy your freedom.
We need your love, America.
It completes us.
Without you, we are cynical
and bitter.
With you, we are happy and
In our glee, we want to
raise you even higher,
Or, die trying.
You are the breath of your
people.
You are the newborn child.
The carpenter swings and
You come down.
The firefighter breaks down
the door and
You step in.
It is your light that
shines
From the debutante’s eyes.
Rockets bark fire
Taking men to the moon and
It is your flag that is
planted.
Rockets bark fire in wars
and
Your flag yet waves.
Your nights are filled with
starry skies.
Your days are filled with
the sun’s good light.
You know who is truly
yours.
The people who do the right
thing.
The ones so proud of you..
As it were,
When people opted for
Life, liberty and the
pursuit of happiness,
You happened.
As it were,
We were born in your fold
and
We are so grateful.
We do not pray for war.
When negotiations fail
Your beloved soldiers
Reach into the jaws of hell
and
Pull you out.
Your soldiers do and
Too many die.
Your dead beloved now lay
in sacred graves.
Their spent coils no longer
rise.
But their spirits live on.
They likely defend you over
there,
Still light humored,
On the other side.
More soldiers died today
beyond sandy shores.
They’re still teaching us
how it is done.
They die our brave heroes,
America
By breaking their boots in
the field and
Shattering their helmets
On the heads of your
enemies..
No heart need be bitter,
nor afraid.
If not fooled by
circumstance,
We see that it is really
you,
America, in uniform,
That takes the wound and
falls, every time,
Over and over, again.
A tremor runs through your
people
At the sight of your
soldiers in martial form.
Not out of fear.
Its just your flag,
Strong hands, sharp swords,
White gloves, the tip of
the spear and
All that honor there.
Dekalb County, GA
© Stan Armistead