Friday, June 27, 2008

Where the Eagle Flies

Where the eagle flies, the beats of its strong wings send waves of freedom over me.
Where the eagle flies, its keen eyesight looks toward the future and telegraphs those visions of continued freedom to me.
Where the eagle flies, the pieces of history that have been woven into a flag of tattered dreams curl round me.

Those pieces of history, woven into a flag of tattered dreams,
they bring a flood of emotions to me.
They bring joy and sadness.
They bring pride and shame.
They bring hope and despair.
How can I not grasp for a tendril of that as the eagle flies over me?

Wherever you are, whatever your country, always grasp for the tendrils of life embodied in your flag. Celebrate the good, mourn the bad, and never forget that there can be both woven into the same piece of tattered fabric. A piece of fabric, as well as a piece of history, would never hold together if it had only the good threads running all in one direction or only the bad threads running all in one direction. . .it is when threads are woven into and out of one another that the fabric gains its strength.


Deb said...

What a powerful & extremely beautiful post Ang. Nuff said.

WhimsybyMari said...

Beautiful post Angie.

Ramblings of a lunatic mom and lampworker said...

Beautiful. Such strength in your words!!!


Lisa Rippee said...


ellen said...

Profound words, Ange, and so true.

angelinabeadalina said...

Thanks :)