• _aamir 5w

    Yellow
    ...
    A colourless colour
    Separated from my mom's womb;
    Yellow was the colour
    When I was discharged.
    There is a different anotomy
    Of similar morphological species
    We all are (in)humans.

    My mom and me, bleed yellow,
    It's not blood, not exactly.
    It's not red. Or I am colourblind
    Or maybe not.

    It has got no specific nomenclature
    What is it when sulphur is synonym
    To blood?
    We live after we die
    And it's a curse, I mean life.
    We live in death,
    Death is another obedient child 
    Of war.
    Like me, I was born in conflict.

    I saw death of an old woman
    Beaten hard by her age.
    She bled, she died.
    Mom says she has got a better place
    A better life.
    She was yellow, or pale
    Or whatever you call it.

    Life is lowest form of disorder
    Or it is disorder deficit.
    There's no stability
    Neither with me, nor my mom
    And maybe my country.
    A country with yellow barbed wires
    Like yellow Bougainville
    Or sunflowers, or any other flower.
    What matters, it's a valley of yellow flowers
    A living sign of jaundice.

    Last evening, it was raining
    And last ablution of the lone sun.
    It is martyred now. 
    I remember it's death,
    It cried joy and screamed acid.
    It was hit by some soldiers
    On the name of independence
    A conspiracy maybe.
    It's bandaged yellow moonface
    Scars all over its body,
    Stabbed in the courtyard
    Of a shrine of a high mountain, 
    Zabarwan, with a fine chiseled tip 
    Of a pine tree.

    My mom don't say about it
    Where it went in conflict.
    But I am mature to interpret
    It is at better place, a yellow place.
    No flags will rule it by oppression
    On the name of three colours
    And a blue wheel
    Of a disfunctioned wheelchair.
    Yellow is a colour of a dead memory.
     I was born yellow
    ...

    Aamir Suhail

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    Yellow

    A colourless colour
    Separated from my mom's womb;
    Yellow was the colour
    When I was discharged.
    There is a different anotomy
    Of similar morphological species
    We all are (in)humans.
    ...

    Aamir Suhail