The Colours Ran
That day, according to my Events Diary,
was the International Day of Peace:
Tuesday the twenty-first of September.
If I hadn't remembered
to write what I needed to do the next,
Wednesday the twenty-second of September,
I may never have noticed that it was
the International Day of Peace.
Uncannily though, mine was rather troubled.
Had laundry to do, and the damn colours ran.
Wondered how many others
didn't feel Peace? I scoured the Internet for
news stories of ceasefire, just for the day,
For reports of football played in
No Man's Land, dribbling round land-mines,
using helmets for goalposts.
Enemies shaking hands,
tasting happy sweat for the first time in forever.
Three hundred and sixty-five days;
one dedicated to Peace.
And the damn colours ran.
I wondered, as I folded my spoiled laundry,
if the colours had bled in Kandahar that day.