Paris

The unlucky day struck her chord,
Turning the tricolore to purest red.
A world united in Fracophilie grief,
To events that there are no words.

A city admired for her vast beauty,
Now scarred by the acts of hate.
How can humans hurt another so,
With a sickness of deepest orange.

Before the dawn chorus could sing,
Whispers of blame echoed all over.
With revenge of green eyes glowing
But should not be the answer sought.

Now fear tries to paint it a whitewash,
But use the brush of indigo’s wisdom.
Know the minority are not the majority,
Unite all in empathy and compassion.

© Fi S. J. Brown

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