The wave of a valedictory flag to America,
Crowding out the sky, all bright white and too spotless
For the blood soaked field before it,
One nation, indivisible,
Became two.
After the war, I walk the burning road home
It should be winter, but the sky
Bleeds ash in place of snow,
The gash of a nation,
Yet to be stitched.
Snow
Like the the snow that should’ve been crowding
The Mulberry house
(The one that outlived two world wars)
But it now stands broken and beaten,
Bruised like the nation.
I have no home to return to,
And my why burned down with it.
But today I find beauty
In the racing of thoughts,
All caught up in tracing lines of light,
(Could they be faster than the flames?
Only patience will tell)
And I live.
As I walk through my country’s fallow hearts,
I look out and think of the trees
Whose shade I will not rest under,
The streams now broken by a revised landscape
(The woman I will not watch birds with,
Who flies among them now).
I look to the sky, and mourn
The loss of airplane flights,
Looking down from miles above,
Landing in foreign worlds, the taste of oranges
Or saffron, or french bread out of sight but in the air. I long for a world lost.
It is far too late for regret.
But today I found a stone of hope,
One that has outlived our conflicts,
And will outlast me still,
Could see a brighter future, cross borders again,
If strong enough.
For now, the past lies buried
Under the ashes of the house
On Mulberry street.
There is no shovel that can free us,
But the slow scabbing over of time.
Abby Pitts (she/her) is currently studying English Literature at Utah Valley University, and will graduate in 2028. She has poetry in publications including The American High School Poetry Fall 2024 Anthology, Untold, and Warp and Weave. She loves reading books of all sorts, as long as they make her think.
