In Memory of Theo Van Gogh, Vincent Van Gogh's Great Nephew
Who Was Murdered by Islamofascists While Standing Up for Muslim Women
Starry, starry night
Paint your palette blue and gray
Look out on a summer's day
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.
Shadows on the hills
Sketch the trees and the daffodils
Catch the breeze and the winter chills
In colors on the snowy linen land.
Now I understand
What you tried to say, to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen
They did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now
.….
For they could not love you
But still, your love was true
And when no hope was left inside
On that starry, starry night
They took your life as fascists often do
But I could've told you, Theo:This world was never meant
For one as beautiful as you.
Starry, starry night
Portraits hung in empty halls
Frameless heads on nameless walls
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget
Like the strangers that you've met
The ragged men in ragged clothes
The silver thorn, a bloody rose
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.
Now I think I know
What you tried to say, to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free:They would not listen; they're not listening still.
Perhaps they never will.
VINCENT, by Don McLean (re-written for Theo)
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