And To The Republic For Which It Stands

December 16, 2007
By Cierra Lowe, St. Louis, MO

These colors so deep have begun to fade and our blue sky stars cease to shine at all
"O America!" they cry, in search of some to take a stand and others to take the fall

Sons of mothers now just serial numbers being shipped overseas to even some score
He who eludes an eternal slumber wakes up knowing exactly what to be grateful for

When the holy raised their heads from prayer they did not know who was to blame
For all of the pain and sin and sorrow and for their homeland that was up in flames

It has not rained here in No Man’s Land since they killed a man named Jesus Christ
Some buddies of his went on to write a book and another discovered betrayal’s price

Two thousand years later we have come to support our country in camouflage and tanks
Even those who are able to escape the bullets will never be able to escape the shame

Here you always carry a picture of the angel who awakened the love that you had never known
Behind her blue eyes are the tear-streaked prayers of "God please bring my daddy home."

The promise land across which you march so far has promised only sweltering heat
Planes and bullets fly overhead and you collapse once more and face towards the east

Close your eyes and click your heels and pray to the gods for their assistance divine
For tomorrow you have a rendezvous with death near some disputed imaginary line

Buried in the sands of war’s immortal hourglass awaiting some profound revelation
Though flesh may evade this forsaken desert, here the soul shall be forever stationed

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