Flags Are Always in Demand

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.