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.