The flag of the fort

by Myryka Arviso-Yazza

The forts branches were sawed down by Anger
Its walls were mended by Tears
Its curtains were weaved by Denial
and its floor was raked by Fear

But, it was Acceptance, Peace and Love that hung the flag.
And Joy that kept it standing.

Its destroyed by the wind and decaying from nature
Sunbleached, withered and
Barely hanging on.

But, the bent and rotting Twig-like branch
Pins it down to reality, preventing it from
Flying away into a flock of birds.

It began as an outlet from the quicksand of sorrow,
For children sunk in too deep.

But, as the clock ticked, and as the moon turned,
it became something much more.

It flaps through the wind now,
Like the wings of a butterfly.
Waving to the children and calling to them,

Beckoning for them to be happy, once again.