Dear American Flag,
I’ll never forget your beauty on 9/12/2001 and years after. You were on almost every porch, yard, mailbox, car, and American heart. It brought tears to my eyes, your graceful beauty. I can still remember how it felt to drive down any road and get a sense of unity and pride when I saw that rows of you elegantly waving, as if you were waving hello to an old friend. To see you now, you’d think that was just a dream.
What have you become? You’ve become, to some, a symbol of arrogant pride, power, and objectivity. To others, a scapegoat, a tinge of pain that true freedom may never be, a distraction from justice. Yes, surely there are some that have graceful pride when they see you. That number may be few, though.
I see you now, nailed to my neighbor’s balcony. Unfree to wave hello to your old friend. They use you to cover their reflection in their mirror, so to not face their privilege.
I see you nailed to a balcony. I see you on men’s Speedos and women’s bikinis. I see you on paper plates and napkins in the trash can. I see you next to the flags of confederate traitors and Nazis. I see you draped over the Cross, becoming the golden calf.
My dear beautiful old friend, please, tell me we won’t have to endure another 9/11 style attack to see your grace again.
An old friend, desperarate for a wave hello.