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Literary Art


Visual Art



Green

Mark Storer

The island gleamed bright green that morning
More like an emerald than ever before
And Belfast cried two voices
As it always has

The color red is spattered blood by I.R.A. Bombs
The color green tells you to cross the street to a corner
The caller sells the London Times —
What Q.E. 2 ate for breakfast, How Maggie hates the color green

The color yellow is racist cowards — Because I'm Irish
I fight myself — My father was orange,
My mother was green. They will kill me
Because I'm protestant, Because I'm catholic

Because I'm Irish, the land dies
Because I'm Irish, the I.R.A. recruits my 15 year old brother
Because I'm Irish, U2 and Marillion sing about me
Because I'm Irish, I don't go to London

Green covers the wall separating orange and green
A wall that creates incompetent cocktail throwers where kids die
A wall that creates no man's land pregnant with mines and bombs
Because I'm Irish, I am green with hateful envy

Because I'm Irish, my God is weary
Because I'm Irish, no one will help me
Because I was born Irish, religous, hateful
I am the emerald in God's eye




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