Stories, They are Every Where

In response to receiving a new poem of mine, a fellow poet suggested that surely I now have enough poems for my book. The following is my response.

You ask if I now have enough poems for my book.

Maybe, I just might have enough, but I can’t seem to quit writing them. I heard the news where a Sargent First Class Paul Smith had held off an outnumbering Iraqi forces, ordering his men within his platoon and others to take cover. He took the largest caliber machine gun and holding it in his arms like “Rambo” fired round after round into the encroaching enemy. As one machine gun emptied, he would holler for another and so it went. Just as reenforcements arrived, the Sargent was fatally wounded. He is credited with saving his platoon and those around him. I thought of how many such heros existed in this little war for freedom, some heros killed as the Sargent others just wounded, heros still. Then I thought of all those wonderful heros who were just there representing all of we at home, heros still.

There was a story in the paper and covered by local TV stations of a lady who sent a son to Iraq. She was putting yellow ribbons everywhere. Her neighbors got caught up in the excitement and began putting yellow ribbons everywhere and now, it is almost like a cult in that part of Louisiana, Yellow Ribbons everywhere, telling our heros we “love you”, we “honor you”, we who may be strangers or loved one, doesn’t matter, we “thank you”.

Funny how a symbol of love for a convict thirty plus years ago is now a symbol of love for our heros. Love does not judge, does it? So with this said, I was humming, then singing the song that really made the “yellow ribbon” famous? I had to write a poem, the plot played across America symbolically, if not in fact, in thousands of towns, among thousands of hearts, God Bless the USA.

Untied Yellow Ribbon

I tied the ribbon, the yellow ribbon just as you asked.
In fact, I must have tied a hundred yellow ribbons.
Each placed so when you returned each would be seen,
And in seeing them you would know I loved, missed you.
The days were long, but the nights even more so,
News of the war was not always good and I feared for you.
Our children, your parents and even mine were brave and
Most often reassuring, taking care of me in your place.
I want you to know the day I got the news of your missing,
It seemed my life went on hold and I could not function.
I am writing this so should you be able to see, somehow,
That I love you with all my heart and miss you terribly.
It has been three months, they tell me there is no more hope,
Looking at the ribbons, I wondered if I should untie them.
I heard my name called, in such a hush, in a voice familiar,
Oh! God, there you were wounded but alive.
Your papers had been confused with others, and you had been hurt,
Thinking it best to surprise me you came home without a word.
So it is true, somehow you did see all the ribbons, you knew of my love,
I untied the ribbons, but the knot that holds our hearts is love.