flags

on days like 9th of may
we rush on our way to work
greyish sky in monotomy with clouds
rain drops playing ping-pong with the tram’s windows
when the tram enters a new direction
and we see (our) flags silently dancing with the wind
not only one, but two, three, four, …

black
red
golden

“from black tyranny we enter – through bloody battles – into golden freedom”

and suddenly
we remember
the day whose fresh air we breath in
– or we don’t –

’cause we’re too satisfied
to remember the battles of the past?

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