Don't call us brothers
when your sons murdered our sons
one bright afternoon
when the world turned and there was no one watching
how simple was the act of blood
can happen in the name of an idea
that was aborted soon
with the language of threat and danger
don't shake hands with the devils
then ask why you got burns over your arms
because fire knows its ways
to the hand that expects it most
don't say to us, bring this,
take that, ad if we only live to serve
this does not do you service
that those you hurt can erase the pain
with the holding of hands
the waving of flags, marching of bands
bullet proof cars, treated acne scars
these are the ideas left in your head
in mine, in the wounds festering
over a decade of brothers slaugthering one another
bearing words open like knives ends
to bear the weight of the world
don't call the rest of us brothers
when your sons murdered our sons
with the language of threat and danger
splitting us into territory
when we were born from the same mother
that cannot stand her ground, brothers.
No comments:
Post a Comment