I saw a confederate flag in a northwestern English town,
I quickened my pace, for I knew I didn’t belong,
Yet I thought about freedom, and my mind raced through the tomes of history,
Searching for clarity,
Why I sensed some strange duality,
I pondered on the struggles, not that of the confederacy, but the ones that came before,
The ones that paved the path for a new dawn.
I thought about the Continental army
And the revolution that was led,
Then I asked myself solemnly,
When do colonialists ever leave quietly?
Then I remembered the quote by MLK, about violence begetting violence and the need to win one’s enemies with love and understanding,
Yet I wondered if MLK would have stayed true to his beliefs if his followers were slaughtered in the hundreds upon their arrival in Washington.
For what happened during the Great March of Return?
How many died protesting the walls?
What feelings drive one to impending doom?
I thought of those who march, knowing their lives may be forfeit,
Who…
