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The times I remember seeing them
were at 4th of July block parties
hanging proudly from porches
where our families and friends
sat in lawn chairs under umbrellas
or around cloth covered card tables
talking of good times past
and our peoples' futures to come.

My sister and I braved the brutal
summer sun, climbing the full
green heights of Mulberry trees,
and eating at least three bowls
of hand churned homemade ice
cream after inhaling three hot dogs
and four Cokes - running free with
our multi-colored friends through
our multi-colored neighbors' yards
and water rainbow sprinklers with
big multi-colored slobbering dogs
panting fast upon our heels -
long before the morning after
bellyaches and the cruel
growing pains of cynicism
and prejudice that would
eventually quell the fire
of our country's youthful ideals:
freedom, liberty and justice for all.

And then this morning, September 12, 2001,
as I walked my dog towards the pre-dawn light of a dying sun,
I noticed it ripple quiet in soft westerly sea winds -
our brightly colored banner hanging proudly from a porch.
I stood moved, and out of the corner of my damp eye
I saw a black gaping hole in the Eastern skyline
flooded with the faith of 300 million multi-colored tears.