Poetry / Son of A Flag

By: Theena Kumaragurunathan

I asked the officer,
“What of my son?
Is he on his way home
In uniform sparkling bright?
Or is he carrying a flag so white,
And prolonging your plight?”

He looked at me,
Face sincere yet eyes untrue,
A ‘patriot’, I thought,
A father of a soldier he was too -
The Happy-if-alive and Proud-if-dead type;
Empathy, he never knew.

He led me into that room,
Where sons of our flag lay,
Neatly lined – sons, caskets and flags -
While tears I sought,
And tears I fought,
For the son of mine who was.

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