Photo by Tasha Halpert
There are holes and rents in the tattered old flag
that hangs by the veteran’s door;
and the man within is tattered and torn
by time and tide and war.
The flag still waves, the man still walks
through increasingly difficult days
the man and his flag reflect each other
in myriad wondrous ways.
Alive to life, yet awaiting their turn
the man and his flag soldier on
both shabby, both proud, they march to a beat
that will cease to be when they’ve gone.
The flag and the man have served us well,
they are weary, yet serving still
in service of life, they make their way
as long as they can and will.