I grew up choosing Red

As my favorite color.                                

It was vibrant and stimulating,

Never boring, or blase.

Red meant power,

And someone’s love

On St. Valentine’s Day.

 

Until the morning 

I remembered red

As my mother’s blood

On the kitchen floor;

My blood in a grocery store;

Blood on a bullet in

Someone’s bed..

 

Don’t get me wrong.                                               

I still love red

In a flowering rose,

On a cardinal’s head.

And a little bow found

On Christmas clothes,

And the red of a reindeer’s nose.

 

But I’ve found peace

With the color blue

In the eyes of one

Whose love is true.

There’s sweet release                                                

In a dark blue sky that’s

Filled with a wild goose cry.

 

Yu/stan/kema