Color Me Crimson

By Samantha Terrell

The creation and the flood
Teach us well enough
To call humanity’s bluff.

As history’s mundane toil, and epic battles ensue
It’s clear no race is exempt
From ways that are imperfect, unkempt.

We promote methodologies
That give life structure
Even as we spiritually cower,

Repeatedly rubbing Passover blood
On our door frames
To protect from reality’s pain.

By all means, put rose-colored glasses on the world,
Until we can take them off again
And see we are okay – by the grace of virtues, despite our sins.

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