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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required my Sun is Orange my morning Sun is orange The yellow is stained with the Blood of my People for that is what we are reminded of each day when it rises from the East to greet the world i see my world clearly we once lived with a hope that the atrocities of Hate War and indifference would go away but it did not my hope has been misplaced somewhere and i can not remember where i have set it down it might have been that day i lost my arm or that day when my Father was jailed or that day when my Sister was killed she was only 3 no, i think i lost my hope the day my Mother no longer cried her eyes have been dry for many a year now and somehow by some grace she still has enough love in her to hug me once in a while through that pained smile that still adorns her face just so she won’t completely break there is a noise i hear it is a loud silence that stays with me through my callousness for the gunfire and the bombs and the screams i can not hear them they have long ago assaulted and killed the dreams of my Family my village my people and it is now working on Humanity where is the sanity in this methodology to be found every day is “Ground Zero” where i live every where i look i see Ground Zeros and we have lost count of those who are no more because of what you call War but you and i never had a dispute that i know of If so, please tell me what i did wrong to cause you harm that you should exact such wretchedness upon me and others like me i know not of the Politics of it all. i have never met a Politician are they so different than we the people ? if it’s Oil i give it to you if it’s right take it freely i will not raise nor put my hand against that of my Father’s children there was a time when all i thought of was simply finding Joy in my life i have since given up that quest for i see far too much of that other stuff which deserves not a name my Sun is no longer Yellow but i do pray my Brother that yours is my Sun is Orange This is dedicated to all the Villages, Peoples across our Globe who must endure the Politics and Sickness of War. © 1 July 2013 : william s. peters, sr.
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