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Guest zen811

I Am The American Flag

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Guest zen811

I had the honor of attending a retirement ceremony yesterday and one of the speakers read the following... I thought it was pretty moving so I wanted to share.

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 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 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 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 and used as bandages

for my wounded comrades on the battlefield,


When I fly at half-mast to honor my soldiers,

Or 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

Long may I wave.

Dear God . . . Long may I wave!.

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