Old Glory Speaks

I’ve flown above the cannon’s roar, and draped the brave who fight no more.
I’ve felt the wind of freedom’s breath,
and wrapped the cold, still hands of death.

I’ve stood through fire, storm, and rain,
A witness to this nation’s pain.
Yet through the years, through rise and fall,
I’ve never turned, I’ve seen it all.

From Lexington to desert sands,
from muddy boots to folded hands,
I’ve been the mark they carried home
the ones who never stood alone.

I’ve heard the shouts of marching feet,
and silence in a soldier’s street.
I’ve touched the skies in glory’s name,
and hung half mast in grief and pain.

Yet still I rise with morning’s sun,
for every soul who’s ever run
toward danger, when they could have fled,
for all the tears and blood they shed.

I do not stand for hate or pride,
but for the ones who fought and died
believing in a higher call.
A hope, a right, a chance for all.

Raise me high, let freedom ring,
let voices rise and children sing.
For while I wave, let this be true,
I stand because they carried through..