The Emblem

It’s not the fall of man.
Neither the
case of inferiority.
They rise to the occasion

Like sturdy eagles’ wings.
Painting their red blood on every wall,
Chanting a local song.

The skies turn blue.
The sun sparks in yellow.
The tombstones of their grandfathers
Are washed out, turning to white.

Night arrives like an unbridled horse,
Galloping under the three stars
Unhidden by clouds.

Freedom at last.
They find gratitude to their God.



About chester maynes

poet, and a lover of music and books.
This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to The Emblem

  1. beth says:

    powerful words

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