Where I am From, Why I Write
I am from the stars of red
that streak across the flag
And I am from the crimson stripes
that ran down the King's back.
I am from the dirt and mold-
the beginning of the end.
The bite of fruit that did unfold
a world of war and sin.
I am from the stars of white
sewn into the royal blue.
And I am from the men who fought
and marched into the night.
I am from the song of hope
passed through the hero's lips.
And I am from the final breath
that did cry: It is finished.
And so I offer this bleeding heart-
my source of thought and rhyme,
To you dear reader to see and judge
if I may be worth your time.
My words from these lips,
The work of these hands,
Are all for my love of a King
And American land.