Curved in a child’s drawing,
yellow where there ought to be gold,
jagged rays jutting out; uneven- with no real heat,
with lines for birds that fly too close.
A supposed depiction of the Sun.
The child fails to see the heat,
of the Sun that snatches back the light when it sets.
Is this the Sun that brings drought and consumes anything green at sight?
The Sun that ignores people’s pleas when rain falls, drowning them all?
The Sun that paints mankind in different shades, so they tear each other apart?
False mirages. Heat strokes. Poor Icarus’ wings melt. Corpses rot.
How can such cruelty be drawn with a yellow crayon?
Sahla Bilal