The sky this morning blushed red.
Perhaps from more blood shed,
this time halfway around the world
into ground that is being swallowed
by a rising sea.
A swollen sea fed by tears of agony
the whole world sheds
And who is right? Who is wrong?
We all sing a song
confusion over who is right,
and so we spend our days
darkening and turning from the light
of love and wilting with hate.
Soon our days are night.
That, though, can change.
It’s not yet too late.