That flag has flown half-staff
too longBrought down in unavailing grief
too long
It's flown half staff when it recalls
the bravery of daughters and sons
their sacrifices under fire,
the slaughter of its innocent young...
too long
It's at half staff again
Its bright stars dimmed
Its tattered corners frayed
like wrinkled hands, in prayer
When will it once again
take flight and soar –
just like a prayer –
and overcome its grief
of death and war,
and mindless slaughter of our young,
like we have overcome before?
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