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Flags Are Flying

Today, flags are flying
outside my window, Fourth of July,
and I am back in my parents’ home,
Boston, 1944.
I remember when the telegram arrived,
just a piece of paper carrying tears
for a wife, a fatherless child,
parents in shock.
Flags were flying then –
not all red, white and blue,
but white ones, too,
with gold stars
to signify broken hearts.
Now, more than sixty years
later, no telegram arrives,
yet feelings remain
for wasted lives
untimely end.
While, once again,
flags are flying.


Jo Steinhurst
Age 86
Judson Manor
Cleveland, Oh


Katie Barnes
Kent State University
Visual Communication Design