The Indian In Me

Our ancestors soaked the land

With blood spilled for our flag,

And now, generations after,

The flag flows in our veins,

Our blood tinted with the saffron

Of courage to face what goes on,

Like our forefathers who faced regimes,

And bore the worst oppressions

To find the future they dreamed of

And gift it to their future.

Streaked with cells white

That guides us to stay in truth's light,

Embracing the peace we know,

And holding back brute strength

With ideals of a harmonious world.

Our country stands proud and true,

Knowing our strength in numbers,

Yet choosing to bow in humility,

And seeking a life of unity,

As we grow, like grass over fields,

Relentless in the face of adversity,

Like weeds that flourish

Despite all the neglect and trouble

To bloom wildly under the spring air,

Untouched by the stains around,

Staying pure. Staying real.

We are the flag we look at

As it flies high with the breeze,

Fluttering, but never falling,

Three streaks of color

Meaning something beyond fabric.