Two little boys running hand in hand,
Playing in the streets of the Holy Land…
They laugh and giggle,
Tumble and roll,
No different in one another’s eyes,
Until adults tell them so…
Both cry when forced to separate,
No longer allowed to play,
Little boys don’t understand adults
Or their silly rules of hate…
Growing into young men,
Taught they are not the same…
Something about a piece of land
They must be willing to die for,
In God’s Name…
Sounds of war surround them
As they run together for cover,
Each embraces the grown man
They once called “Brother”…
Bursts of bullets find them
As they shake each other’s hand…
Their blood slowly flows together,
As two brothers die together
in the thirsty desert sand.
© Leatherman 2014
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