YOUR FLAG
Up a dreary street, down a cosy rabbit hole
You’ve unfulfilled every single last goal
Burnt out matches from your red doorstep
Blow down a pavement crack, where ideas are swept
Feeling shackled like a bear inside your parquet box
Though it’s shutters and chains have broken locks
The street sign on the corner says your country needs you
But for you there’s no honour in red, white and blue
Imagine your colours, softly blended with pride
Hoisted from a window, not hidden inside
The hues of your pennant that for now are unknown
Burst forth like a field hare once your flag is flown
Twenty small doors distance you from the world
Smash them down hard, watch that great flag unfurl
Bold cockerel beckons from allotments below
Patient plumage awaits, so desperate to show
Stride through the red paint, be proud of your tracks
The time that fades footprints is lost looking back
On, over the gate, where once was forbidden
To the cockerel’s shed where your colours are hidden
The sharp bramble path you then need to follow
Leads down to a house in the old quarry’s hollow
It’s sturdy brick walls contain comfort and calm
A space to forget those who once caused you harm
Through a willow-leaf curtain, where an orchard once stood
Lies a tiny dark meadow fenced with rotting wood
Plant your flag in the corner where the pink bluebells grow
And watch a cascade of answers come rolling on home.
Copyright Helen Temperley
