The On-looker

I spoke to him one night; the man in the moon
Of life on the patchwork that spun at his feet.
He listened intently; and shook his gently
At the circles and cycles of life, on repeat.

A wiry white finger, then hovered and lingered
On the fifth of the earth made of sand and of green.
‘Tell me,’ he asked, ‘of this land that’s so vast –
Of its deserts and jungles, and all in between.’

Once happy he knew of what prowled and what growled
Of the waters, and creatures, the trees and the rain,
He turned to me slowly, and leaned in more closely
His eyes fixed and ready to quiz me again.

‘And what about man, and his great, perfect plan?
Has he learned from the seasons, from life’s ebb and flow?
In a land with such colour, where life gives to each other
Does man see through the eyes of a friend or a foe?’

His silence was thunder, my sorrow, torrential
And a cloud, like a shroud, hid the man from my view
When he bathed me once more, and the dark side had turned
I felt sure I’d confirmed what he already knew.

‘In a land of diversity, why not love, why adversity,
In a country of rainbows, why’s it all black and white?
Such joy in full colour, yet you judge one another
On the skin, not within, or the source of your light!

How can lands of such majesty, be home to brutality
How can one man lord over another with threat?
All those years all those tears, and the cries and the lies…
Still you re-live the horror and you chose to forget.

Where the sun shines more brightly, so the skin is more nightly
The spectrum is radiant, east through to west
Yet you see definition in a colour addition
Making foolish assumptions, ignoring the rest!

All life is a blessing, all men stand as equal
For all love their families, their homes and their friends
Yet still you insist, with the traits that persist.
If your sight was diminished would hatred all end?’

‘We’re not all bad,’ I whispered, ‘or narrow of mind
There’s a new wind that’s blowing, from north through to south
An age of acceptance; a united resistance
Options self-formed, not from cruel word of mouth.

We’re kneeling, and standing and changing together
A pallet of humans who judge on the heart.
A joining of nations, of all generations
We’re coming together, not pulling apart.

Keep watching, my moon-friend, this new generation
We’ll counter the madness and level the field
There’s no discrimination by God, in creation
And we won’t stop uniting ‘til division is healed.’

The man looked me sideways, and squinted a little
He tip-tapped his foot, whilst a hand stroked his chin.
Though his anger had faded; and seemed almost persuaded
Still a sadness exuded from the cold warmth within.

‘Can I ask you a question? he finally whispered.
‘You’re all human, so can you then tell me please, why?
A difference in colour so you’re cruel to your brother?

…Try as I might, I couldn’t reply.