A Red One

You ran in with a fist full of flags

and told me one was mine.

"A Red One!" you yelled

and ran screaming from the field.

And I took you at your word

because I'm true to mine

but now I sit here 

flag-less

wondering what you meant.

You see, I see 

my own humanity

and human-ness

and yes,

a distinct lack of perfection, 

but

flags?  

I'm not holding any

so I'm confused

and wondering what you saw 

in these, my empty hands.

And from what I've heard from those around me

who look daily at my hands

empty of all 

but

ready to hold,

I think it was you

waving your own flags so hard and fast

and with a fury you seem to think means "truth"

that you didn't see

what was real

and true

and right in front of you.