by Sean Taylor
When we had no flag
There were only white sheets, hanging on clotheslines
Flapping on windy days,
Waving greetings like so many neighbors on so many dusty paths
White not for surrender
But for sleeping, for rest because white was easy
Easy to bleach our odors away,
Dirt and sweat from one person's work, one man's labor, one woman's toil
One day we painted bars deep red
Crimson with the blood of the people who lived here first
But there wasn't enough
So we added more from the backs of the people we owned
And so we painted what was left blue
Blue with the bruises of our slaves and red with their stripes
Even if we had to wrench the paint out of the whips after use,
Twisting leather until our fingers too were as calloused as theirs
We found some white remained
But it was not for sleeping, not anymore; it was for the Virgin Innocent
Our children who would inherit a world
Built on the paint dripped from the wounds of those we had conquered
Perhaps it's time again
Wash day for the flag, with fresh bleach to clean away the red and blue
To allow the colors to surrender and fade
And once more flap greetings in the wind
Perhaps you, or me,
or that woman over there, the one in all the colors of the rainbow
Or that vermin, that enemy, that animal,
Could be the bleach to get the job started
To speak the change we all should hear
Whistling in the wind
That blew when we had no flag
(c) 2024
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