It is the color of your heart,
The splash of color of the lipstick
your mother bought you when you were a teen,
It is the color of the flower given to you during courtship
by your suitor
Not to mention the flower gifted
by your girl friend at campus
during your twentieth birthday
The blood of countless soldiers in the countryside
Shouting for peace.
The color of the grain from the first strike of sunshine
in the time of harvest
The color of the smile from the peasant’s face at first glance
The color of muscovado from the sugar workers
It used to be your favorite
But now at the middle of this winding journey
You opted to be mellow
But still your passion is teeming with this color
Passion for your sisters
In the grassroots
shouting for land justice which is scarce.
Behold the color of your heart!
The burning color of the sensation you feel now
despite the waning ember of your youth.
It remains the color of your Power.