The Colour of My Love

The colour of my love is not red.

It is not pink

neither.

For love knows no anger,

nor lust.

The colour of my love is not black

and nor is it white.

It has no time for hatred and nor does not cling to its innocence

like a crisp cotton sheet on summer's sticky limbs.

The colour of my love has no shades of purple

and there are no hints of blue,

and orange does not even have any speckles.

All of these colours,

while absent,

are not traceless.

For they have each walked, skipped or charged through me

at one time or another.

But now,

they are gone.

The colour of my love is green.

Not 'green with envy',

but green with a love

so balanced,

so calm,

and so true.

The colour of my love takes all that I have been through

(and all who have been through me)

and it encompasses them in lush, green foilage.

The kind only made by our Mother Earth.

The colour of my love now clearly states

and demonstrates

that I am enough,

and I deserve to be here,

and that I can love whoever I choose to be in receipt of it.

My love is the same love as yours.

Your love is the same love as mine.

This love is here,

now,

and it is available to us all.

This love demands that we stop choosing sides,

that we stop wearing our colours and using them to fight,

to quarrel,

to divide.

This love says we must hold hands,

and breathe.

This love asks,

gently,

that we drop all the armour

and that we uncross our swords

so that we can see

with our eyes,

but more importantly

so that we can feel

with our hearts.

With our imperfect,

scarred,

and broken,

but mended

and beautiful,

human hearts.