They sew stripes with trembling fingers
Stars stitched like aspirations on fabric
Factories hum to the tempo of urgency
The loom is loud with borrowed hope
Each thread whispers tales of unity fractured
Colors bleed but never blend completely
A signal waved for reasons hard to love
Victory or loss weighs light on poles
In parades, they flutter—ceremonial ghosts
On coffins, draped; final, solemn protests
Children’s hands wave symbols they don’t grasp
Noise of tanks drowned by cloth’s silence
Long after the cannons find their calm
We pack them neatly in forgotten closets
Until another war demands the high price
And flags unfurl to remind us: repeat.