IT IS

It is sparkling in the eyes of a child as she waves her flag to the beat of the marching band.

It is glowing on the face of the young man with the bugle as his cheeks puff out to a familiar tune.

It is hanging from the windows and the porch posts and streaming from antennas of pickup trucks and motorcycles.

It is nestled in the arms of the families who have only a photo or a medal to hold on to.

It is what we sing about and fight about and have the right to write about.

It is a dream not yet perfected and a hope to keep alive.

It is up to each and every one of us or none of us survive.


-Rita