The Others

Are their backs warmed by other suns?
Do their feet trod a different Earth?
And who are we then to be the ones
To assess their value and their worth?

By saying ‘other’ we begin
Down a very slippery slope
It starts as it may end in sin
A person hanging on a rope.

One finger can so easily be broken
But fingers together make a fist
If ‘other’ remains unthought, unspoken
We find no others do exist.


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