Hymn of the Green Beret

Freedom is the quintessential essence
The incarnation of withstanding rectitude
Of the inception of hope welling the tears of the parched land
Where rivers run dry of sorrow, of anguish,
And whirs past the whispers of the jaded wood spurge
Breathing life into a barren valley-whose soft sandy cheeks line the horizon
Forming wrinkles that cringe to smile upon ridges on end

Smooth, yet bristled by the forgotten relics of Ozymandias
When a child's eucalyptus garden thrived with verses —
Only one can begin to image how many dryads roll off their unraveling vines
Like silken strands of hair from the dais weaved into a spring gown
Lovely beyond compare, though tantalizing
As to tug at the soul's bearing until it releases its black flesh
Casting utopias from which hangs a golden nirvana short-lived
Deep within the bosom's chasm of smoldering inferno
For the very core of evolution is written in the twinkling dying stars
All seamed into the rigid fabric of Old Glory.

Anita Y., 17
Boston, Massachusetts

* Reprinted from Positive Teens Magazine Volume 4 Issue 3, May/June 2002

{ Back to Creative Expressions }