The Death of the Rainbow
When Darkness,
And Hatred,
And Death,
Held measureless control over all,
No misfortune had ever been so
Fatal
Or so
Hideous
As the now acknowledged
Presence of the rainbow.
Blood was its manifestation,
And so scarlet stains
And blood-tinted tiles
Glittered with anxious pains.
A multitude of dreams
Of life,
Of hope,
And of passion
Died, each in the
Wretched shadow of a bullet.
A bigoted figure
Exits a van,
Lets its hatred fly
There was a sharp cry:
"Mommy,
I love you.
He’s coming-
I’m gonna die."
The merriest grew pale,
Cowering in blood,
Christened in the horror
Of a fallen rainbow,
Enfeebled by terror of the night.