I am strong and solid. Wide and tall.
They made me stacking stones and bricks;
coated thick cement, and shielded in iron.
I run miles and miles long,
dividing hearts and nations:
But I weigh heavier on hearts.
I never shed a tear; I only breed fear.
When little Isaiah wants to talk with Uncle Phil,
and aunt Shiela to old Nagma,
I forbid them with a firm No,
and remind them of their colour and God.
They stare and retreat.
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