Lemme Tells Ya Bout The Freedom Bird
by Debra Jean Harmes Kurth

I jus' put me in sum flowers,
at the graves up on the hill.

Grandaddy, he went to the big war,
an daddy got that scar, in Korea.
My man, he fought in Viet Nam,
an my brother saw him, a Desert Storm.

Weren't no question in my mind,
the boy he'd grow, then serves.

He joins up in the Army,
when them towers, they come down.
It weren't no time afore we knowed,
our boy would see Iraq.

I tied me a yella ribbon,
up on the front porch post.
Then hugs my boy for all I's worth,
he was goin' off to war.

We turns us on the TV news,
looks at it, evera night.
Not a day went by I missed my prayers,
for our soldiers, and their kin.

I was jus' sittin' on my front porch,
when a car come in the yard.
A soldier man walks up to me,
carrin' a letter in his hand.

Can't say I heared a single word,
was said to me that day.
The grief, it took me over,
an a heaviness fills my heart.

My boy, he come home in a metal box,
dressed in a great big flag.
A taps was play'd an shots was fired,
for my boy, that died a man.

I looks at the news, everaday,
bout a war, cross the sea.
But that freedom bird,
he come home to roost,
when they buried my boy, that day.

Copyright © 2006 - Debra Jean Harmes Kurth
Published: 10/7/06   ·  Author's Page   ·  Next Poem