Seeing Red

Mama always said red looked good on me.

Red was my colour.

Red like the June heart berries.

Red like maple leaves in September.

Mama always said red made my brown skin pop.

Red was flattering.

Red like a traffic light stop.

Red like cardinal wings flapping.

Mama always said red was radiant.

Red was romantic;

But she didn't say red had a gradient,

Red could be toxic.

Rich and thick, syrupy red;

Rosy and raised, rashy red;

Blushy and hot, embarrassed red;

Alarming and bloodshot, poisoned red.

Red like the poppies in Flander's Fields, or;

Red like the dresses of the women you've killed.

Red can mean love, or red can mean pain,

So let us light our red cedar so we can love again.