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The Colour of Black

Kris Brennan

22 April 2020

Oh look at the trees
It’s all coming back
Yes, I agree but is it just me
That I can still see
The colour of black?

Out in the garden
I dig and weed
And yes the garden
Is recovering
But why is it that
I can only see
The colour of black?

And when at night
I vigorously scrub
To remove the dirt
On my feet and my hands
And under my nails
The only colour I grasp is
The colour of black?

And now the Autumn
Season is here
Days are fresh
Skies are blue and clear
Why is it, that the odour I sense
Is the colour of black?

And when in town
And people say
Oh you’re OK
Your home is safe
Yes, I reply
But my heart is
A jumble, a whirlpool,
A turmoil of
The colour of black.

And when the alien-
Like machinery
Is digging and scraping
The trash
And the ash
Of the homes that were once lived in
Of the memories and items
They held so dear
I can feel the turbulence
The upheaval
And it feels like
The colour of black.

It will become brighter,
This feeling of loss,
These feelings of fear
Will slowly disappear
This world wind of emotions and
The colours of black.

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