My Country Is a Flag – a poem

My Country Is a Flag

by Willie Deuel

 

My country is a flag

Flown at half-mast

Tangled between the rusty pole that flies it high

And the weathered rope that holds it up there

 

My country is a flag

Rendered frayed and threadbare by unyielding wind

Faded by graceless sunlight

Slowly ripping away from the grommets where the rope goes

 

My country is a flag

Charred by gunpowder

And stained with the blood

Of volunteer soldiers and innocent children

 

My country is a flag

With colors and shapes

Relentlessly committed to

failing to understand one another

and wishing they did not touch

 

My country is a flag

Flown at half-mast

Not knowing any better than to tear itself

White from red

Blue from white

Red from blue