A new banner
Each morning I hoist the flag -
salute my sovereignty, my authority,
establish my boundaries,
determine which way the wind blows.
Tattered, under sun and weather,
it's blanched over the years into white,
the colors I cling to less and less relevant,
the governing body for which it stands
having picked up and moved to another shore.
This daily ritual is a mere adherence
to the only allegiance I've ever known,
containing in its discrepancies a freedom
only dreamed of, read about in books.
It's a ceremony I'm only true to
because there's nothing else to do
until my liberator arrives and we haul
down the flag together;
reverently fold, put it away forever.
I'll gather my things and follow Him
under a new banner into the great unknown.
O child of God, Meher says the journey
is from the bottom red stripe to the top pale blue.