I noticed her out of the corner of my eye. “Is that who I think it is?” I thought. A second glance confirmed it was.
“What is SHE doing here?”
“What HAPPENED to her?”
She looked so dirty, mistreated, and abused. Not like the strong, proud woman I had always known. She seemed sad, broken, rejected, beaten, bruised, and scorned…lifeless.
She had always been so stunningly beautiful and held such a special place in my heart. I remember how she would quietly and stoically own any room, in which she was standing. Her song would bring me to tears and I had promised her so many times that I would defend her. It looked as though I had failed.
I bent down to pick her up from the floor of the dirty, dusty hayfield. She had been mangled and tangled in grass and weeds. I gently lifted her up to examine the evidence of her trauma. “Who did this to you?” I wondered. “Who could be so horrible?”
Her wounds were extensive and her scars will last forever, but I believe she will survive.
I hugged her, held her close to me, and cried for her as I carried her home. This was not supposed to happen to her! Not her!
She has symbolized so much good since her inception; Liberty; Freedom; Hope; A New Beginning. She still perfectly symbolizes this country I love so much…only differently now.
Twenty of her stars have been ripped off of her. Many of her remaining stars are have been dismembered. One of her red stripes is torn of completely; another white one ripped in half. The fabric is divided by so many rips and tears.
Twenty states and two of the original colonies destroyed? That sounds about right. Division throughout the fabric of our nation? That sounds about right. Dirt covering her as mud is being slung at our history? That sounds about right.
As greed, corruption, and deception permeate every facet of our government, like the dirt permeating every fiber of her being, take note of who is still proudly displaying this beautiful symbol. The people. She belongs to the people.
We The People still believe in what she stands for.
As I write this, she is resting comfortably on my living room table. It’s hard to take my eyes off of her. She’s still so beautiful, even when broken and torn.
She will be framed, displayed, and honored. She will always have a special place in my home.
And when it’s all over, I hope and pray she will be a reminder of what we almost lost, not a reminder of what we once had.
One Nation. Under God. Indivisible.