Pink is soft
like rose petals
enough to soothe
the sore, the pains
of the black and blue -
a nation’s heart wounded
by years of political ****
and social and economic abuse.
Pink heals.

Pink is the right blend
of the crimson drops shed by heroes
and heroines, burning with sacred love
to fight for freedom, so elusive to a race forlorn,
and of the pure white spirit of those who heed
the people’s call to serve, selfless as a blank
sheet of paper, on whose face a meek verse
from a struggling poet is too shy to burst.
Pink transcends.

Pink is bright
against a backdrop of the now fading black
of the darkest nights in our ravaged islands,
and with faint, fainting faith of sky indigo
but encouraging tinge and peeping rays
of yellowish sun anew, we see a new day
breaking. Hope – a new day spells
our salvation as a people –
And pink is the color
of that dawn.