Tears of Many Colors
Again. And again.
How many is that?
How many colors have we killed?
How many souls left wounded?
And for what? A monochrome world
devoid of magic?
And for what? Do the deaths
make you feel safer? Stronger?
And what happens after?
Trust me, what you fear has nothing
to do with color.
It lives within. And when all else is gone,
that is all that will be left.
You will be no safer.
You will be no stronger
as you rest in hell,
separated from the God
who made the rainbow.
About this poem.
Again. This time down South. This time Asians. Again and again. My heart breaks. My heart grows angry as I sit in my diners and listen to the hate talk. No matter where I travel, it is there.
How can we be so blind? What we say matters. It feeds the fire. Not everyone is a firecracker ready to go off, but apply fire to enough of us, and you’ll find the firecracker. Guaranteed.
Love wins. I believe that. But oh the wounded and victims along the way!
C. S. Lewis, the great Christian apologist, once wrote a book called “The Great Divorce”, in which hell was as much about separation from God as anything. That’s where the last two lines came from.
Not my most coherent poem. It takes a while to get back to coherent.