They are the only ones who watch me. I am the only one who watches them. Three waving flags, with beacons of hope, just like mine. Three who do not belong in this war-zone remain here anyways. Three torn excuses planted by our fellow soldiers. From our quarters we can hear them whipping in the wind, but Sanchez, in his own world of slumber, thinks nothing of them.
Their fortitude is all too present. They spear a shaft through the sandy earth. They grow vertically, and taunt the sky with their worldwide symbol of hope and freedom and will always be there. This is how they remind.
If one were to fall, the other two would stand united, continuing to burn their message into the eyes of their admirers. Free, free, free they all whisper every night and every morning. They symbolize.
When they are too beat up to continue waving their arms, they will be replaced by fresh new ones, and as the war-zone erupts around them they continue to stand proud. When there is nothing but mere sand and tumbleweeds. Three who inspire others. Three who touch lives and are not forgotten. Three whose only goal is to stand despite the struggles.