Red

From rocky limestone fertile plains are seen
Below is land so flat no one can hide
Atop the mountain temple seems serene
But Buddha’s cave was used for genocide
Don’t ask about the brother who is gone
A sister just a memory these days
And some can’t talk of what was seen or done
A blessing is the past becoming haze
The golden days are still yet to arrive
Recovery so slow but it will come
Too late for many innocence has died
And having witnessed hell the senses numb
The future must be open like the plain
No red to stain the holy rock again

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Author: thepoetautist

A Gay poet of fifty odd years who is currently living in Cambodia.

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