When they were struck
these men were not in their uniforms
sleeping in their banyans and pajamas
yearning for a touch
thinking of a child back home
lost in love of the loving
they were at their vulnerable best
these men,now,out of uniform.
The other,who vandalized their lives
were also men in uniform
brain washed, tutored to kill
for a war that is not theirs
men with dreams in their eyes,
a promise in their hearts
yearning to go back across the border to peace, to love.
They killed each other, men in uniform
camouflaging their loving hearts with a harshness
that is not theirs, nor the victory,neither the loss
nor this war they wage against their own loving hearts
killing it with a misguided hatred and the hope of an unseen promised land.
Dear sons of soil, this side and that,stay and flourish.
Let the border remain, just that, a border.