A Tree of Life

Sat beneath!

A bonus if a breeze stirs

On Summer days of hate,

For on this day, another

Migrants death begged tears

Upon my face.

Not all is well on Planet Earth

I muse, as hell pays in battle-towns

Where only red is shed, and

Then again, does anybody care

For a fellow citizen of world -

Incensed

I'm treasuring a silence,

A day infested ears of cacophany

Are quietened, and reaching for the quill

I state,

Nothing can be said of those

whose racist fears reduce a

fellow human being to tears,

These tears, tears on pillows,

Sleeves, arms!

I look along my arms

And follow home to fists now

clenched,

And see the cloth the

Sun did bless; my olive skin -

Deepening with summer tan

And I wonder; is this racism

Sat inside the dormant hearts

of blind, deeper with a

Darker tone of skin? A

Differing of levels by

Xenophobes who only

Acknowledge 'white,'

Until that is, until that is,

The Irish twang alights,

Or Polish for a punch!

Now looking at the Sun,

Bright, life giving, Earth refining Sun,

I think on this a day to meditate,

To be in harmony with a world

full of Beauty;

Why cannot they see, we

Are all alone on just one ball,

Each living soul nourished

By just one Star,

A star that hues the skin of all,

Just a little darker for some,

For beneath all this,

This tangled web of racist shit,

Beneath the skit they call - of each and

everyone they hit, they, us, you, I,

Are all, just,

One,

Blood!

Michael Waite 25^th April 2009 1211hrs.