Unfurl for the freaks and fresh-from-the-ward whack jobs,
for processions of prostitutes, parades of the screwed up.
Raise high for unrighteous addicts, and pregnant unwed,
for the last that are first, while the first scratch their heads.
Raise up banners for the abandoned, the beaten, the twisted,
the pageantry of questioners, the odd balls, the mystics.
Redeem all the flags used for commerce and attention,
wrap them like embraces ‘round the shot up and shut down.
Unstitch the heraldry of grand statements of doctrine,
brand our unholy tongues with Red Letters of longing.
Enlarge our hapless hearts with love, beauty and truth,
let our lives become word, let our speeches be mute.
Glimmer our feet with the grime of the road,
under wide brim of sky, under weight of our load.
Let our hands wave wide His gospel of fish,
hail the day, hail the hour, hail the moment of bliss
when broken down travelers are healed with a kiss.
Lift our eyes to the presence of flag bearing friends,
clouds of imperfect humans reaching out for our hand.
All of these my sisters, my brothers, and I am the least,
chief of penniless beggars indulged with a feast.
So hoist the heraldic for amazing wretches, like me,
who limp on life’s journey, yet somehow are free.