The one without a flag

There was one without a flag

walked barefoot,

feeling the tremble in the earth

long before the storm came.

 

When the kings argued in marble halls,

and the rebels shouted in cracked streets,

this one sat beside the well

where the workers wept and the widows waited.

 

In every fire,

they saw the smoke drifting both east and west.

In every cheer,

they listened for the silence beneath.

 

They were not neutral.

They were soil

holding every fallen seed

without asking who dropped it.

 

And when the banners fell,

and the parades grew quiet,

the people found this one still there

with sleeves rolled,

hands dirty,

eyes clear.