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COLORS
By Sharon F. Warner
The flag of a
country is called its colors.
The uniform of a group or gang
is
sometimes referred to as colors.
Our skins in varying shades
of darker than white
are colors.
I have some thoughts
about colors.
People are
showing their colors now,
Raising, waving, wearing the flag,
Painting
their houses, their cars, their lawns,
Dressing up and even dyeing their
pets
Red, white, and blue.
Some of these citizens seem to be
saying,
“I’m more American than you are.”
Of course I
always knew,
even before they showed their true
colors,
that a lot of people thought
they were
more American than me.
So now, in this
time of ultra-conspicuous patriotism,
I will salute the flag,
I will
pledge allegiance,
I will even sing “The Star-Spangled Banner”
–
I can actually hit most of the notes –
But I will not
display the colors.
Because I am haunted by the shades of other
colors.
The first flag
had 13 stars,
the one that was flying when this nation came to
be,
the one that waved when the Constitution was
written.
The Constitution said that
Non-white men were equal to 3/5 of a
man.
Women, white or non-,
were not equal to anything.
Color me
invisible.
I think of
later colors:
The stars and bars of the Confederate flag,
The flag that
represented the states that wanted
to keep people of color as a source of
free labor.
The Confederacy lost the Civil War,
but the
colors still fly –
even at government buildings
in various parts of the South.
I don’t understand that.
No
government buildings
fly the flags of Germany or
Japan
or any other conquered nation.
Who really lost the
Civil War?
I know. We did.
The 20th
Century saw colors of change.
The flag of our country was
transformed
From 48 stars to 49, then 50.
More people of color in Alaska
and Hawaii
became official Americans.
There are other
changes that could be made.
Puerto Rico could be – some say should be
– 51st state.
But how would we arrange the stars?
And wouldn’t
an entire country of brown people
be maybe too much color for
America?
America,
America….
So many wars, so many colors.
Vietnam-agent orange. The
Gulf war – black gold.
This year, as autumn was approaching,
men wearing the protective coloration or passengers
and
packing a hidden agenda
boarded four planes
and turned them into guided missiles.
Three of the planes found their
mark.
One was diverted when ordinary people
showed their
true colors as heroes.
The calendar still said summer,
but
fall is what happened
to the tallest twin towers in our
nation.
The September colors of yellow and red
were the
colors of fire and blood.
The stars and stripes were flown at
half-mast.
Now we are at
war,
not full-scale yet, but war nevertheless,
with terrorists of
color.
I abhor what these people have done,
And I know that the President
does not want
us to be seen as pale cowards.
So now “the
rocket’s red glare,
the bombs bursting in air”
will be seen in far – distant places.
Now untold
numbers of men and women
are wearing the colors of
camouflage,
the colors of sand and earth and foliage.
They
are being deployed to places
where terrorists may
be.
The terrorists
who wounded our country
are people of color,
but they are
not like me.
Many Americans are eager for war,
for payback,
for revenge,
but I am not like them.
I love my color,
I will honor
my country’s colors.
But I want myself and my nation to be
known
for more than the color of blood.
10/8/01
Sharon Warner is a dynamic
community poet and teacher in Chicago. She read this poem at a public session
given by the Neighborhood Writing Alliance during the 2001 Conference of the
National Council of Teachers of English held in Chicago. Sharon did not
participate in Grassroots 2002 but has been invited for the 2003 event. The
Neighborhood Writing Alliance has collaborated with The Centre for Literacy in
other community writing events.
Web : http://www.sharonfwarner.com/ |
