Orange

 I've been told orange is the colour of forgiveness.

That may well be so - it is also the colour of the protestants in Ireland,

The colour of inmate suits who reckon with the reality,

Or lack,

Of forgiveness.

The Protestants hailed William of Orange, 

And I wonder what they learned of forgiveness.

I used to say when people commented on my red hair that,

"It isn't red. It really is orange."

And then they called me Ginger.

And I thought about Ginger and was confused:

Ginger is tan on the outside and pasty yellow-white inside.

My skin is pasty-yellow-white. 

My hair used to be orange,

And now just looks like a dull tan, 

So perhaps Ginger fits after all.

Orange stands in contrast to almost all other colours.

In fashion, nothing seems to match it.

It requires courage to wear, or even to paint walls orange.

Perhaps that's why it's the colour of forgiveness.

It takes courage to forgive.

To wear the orange jump-suit which seems to shout:

"I need forgiveness."

It is a bold, daring vibrancy that cannot be hidden or missed.

Heavy, ripe, oranges dangling from a branch,

Dripping with abundant golden liquid -

The colour of sunshine:

The colour of hope:

The colour of forgiveness.

I wonder if we would all do well to embrace orange.

At least,

More than we do.