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.