Faded Stars and Stripes (February 2007)
The stars flash white amid royal blue,
As snowy lines bend to the breeze;
Dancing, curling, rippling red bloodlines—
The crisp snap of cloth while riding high.
The teachings and trust are deeply rooted,
As all the children stand tall and proud;
Hand on heart, eyes cast upward, unknowing allegiance from little lips—
The haunting echo of words spoken in a one-room schoolhouse.
The guards have them lined up now, and the planes roar above,
As the innocent are made suspect and filled with fear;
Patting, rummaging, questioning: a demonstration of control—
The price of rights for temporary security.
McCarthyism’s quiet, replaced by a patriotic act against themselves,
As a robotic, airbrushed man reads the carefully-crafted headlines;
Hands on mouth, eyes closed tightly, ears deaf and dull—
The Whiskey Rebellion was the least of their worries.
The stars are yellow against the slate grey,
As faded lines wilt in still air;
Drooping, wrinkling, dying bloodlines—
The dead silence of a flag at half mast.
A whisper is left
And carried on the wind,
To fly with dandelion seeds—
To be forgotten and faded in the distance.
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