By Sumaiya Shorif Moon 

I am the green that you see,
can you feel the life inside me?

The pain in my veins,
the cries of my men,
do you even see with open eyes?

Look at the beautiful sunrise,
the glazing rays of light,
but can you look into the eyes
where sorrow lies,
in the hearts of the fireflies?

It is night, but not dark yet,
looking at the moonlight, you have said.
Did you ever notice the owls,
trembling at the foxes’ howl?

You only see the green,
but never the grey, almost fading.
You would say it’s a paradise;
beneath the clouds, sadness lies.

You would call it a garden of play,
well, for me it’s only coloured grey.