Mangled and Torn

by Leslie Shalduha

Mangled and torn

She lay

Under the dark machines

As they pass

People carry on

As though they do not see

The tragedy unfolding

“Not my job to protect

What am I going to do anyway?”

She twists and turns with each pass

Silently screaming in agony

Images of white and red

With glimpses of blue

I can stand it no longer

I rush to the middle of the street

And pull her into my arms

Won’t someone help me?

Help me to straighten her twists

Smooth her folds

Return her the honor she earned

Rather than the perversion

Served up to us by the

new tyranny in the land

I wonder

Do they raise her at dawn

With respect

And lower her at sunset

With solemnity

Do they comprehend

Her true significance?

What those serving this country

With the utmost sacrifice have truly given

The sway she had over my heart

When I offered myself to her

To further liberty and independence

Tho I had no awareness of symbolism

As I signed those papers

That came later

The ceremony of Colors

A solemn duty we all filled

Filled me with pride and belonging

And now I cannot find that feeling

For they have stolen it from me

From us