her heart's a coat of many colors

american mystery...what color would you be--what color would those stars turn if the salient sun burned the clouds and bellowed loud a glory brimming over, full of our might, our mistakes, and all our red-ruptured heartaches? to sing our story under an aqua-marine blue-green canopy screen, with silvery silver strips like trumpets tipped to the heavens, and shout out the bars of how those white-whigged stars looked on, heedless of the sorrow-stained skies, and all at once fell headlong--like a madman--a rushing redman--and ran red, gushing, bleeding a trail of tears from all our eyes? and this blood in time would become a red-mud mulatto flood (see the Mississippi river) surrounding the piebald trees (cross the taker and the giver), somehow enriching maroon roots way down deep (how those white-hooded stars will shiver), down in the brown ground of our hearts...

to raise up a coat of many colors.

and if they said history comes from color, then who was red white and blue's mother? and will this coat of many colors--yes, they say her heart is a coat of many colors--say, "come red, call the red beating drum (while mothers weep for their sons) heart; and come blue, second to none! (yet unable to know all we've done) heart; and come purple, the earth bows down, yes, the east, west and all the seas come and bow down to meet these and...

to gaze on our coat of many colors.