Flesh and Bones

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Oh, Mother,
Stop crying!
Your children are no longer fighting,
Some are dead,
Some are still alive,
It is a ceasefire
For counting bodies,
So rejoice!
Everything is going to be alright.
They are all big now,
You have done your job well,
They can take care of themselves now,
They know what it means to get along,
You have taught them about peace,
About music, love, and art,
Oh! they have grown up to be so smart,
So very talented!
Now they know better
Not to fight with each other,
Even though they keep a gun
They know not how to use,
For a gun’s real house is a holster.
And if they take a life,
Haven’t they known about giving too?
So what if their hands are not soiled
With that dirty mud?
They are still painted red
In their brother’s blood.
Stop weeping now,
They killed only your wayward son,
Who had gone deaf in an explosion,
And wouldn’t listen to them
When they called him,
They cut the tongue of your younger one,
Who spoke way too much for a small mouth,
And pluck the eyes out of your favourite son,
Who had seen way too much
In his short beautiful life,
They stabbed the eldest
For he had pushed their brothers
To be different than the rest,
And smothered the romantic,
Who thought he could win the rest with love.
They poisoned your little devil,
For he wished to be free,
And drowned the singer
For singing songs a rebel sings.
But it is alright, mother!
They had it coming.
They asked for it,
For they kept coming,
When the world asked them
To run the other way,
They charged with death
In their red eyes,
And your womb was avenged,
When they all died like flies.
You should have seen the look in their eyes,
Varnished are these walls
With their insides,
And now their heads
Rest on those spikes
For you to recognize.
Why worry, mother?
Let them fight it out,
The strong will beat the weak out,
The might is always right,
Even though he had a fight,
And killed the light
From the eyes of conscience.
You are so naive, Mother!
Why do you shed a tear
When one had to fall?
Don’t you have so many others?
What are you talking about?
Why should we have seen him
When he was one?
The young had no voice then,
He wasn’t thinking when
You held him in your arms
For the first time.
Look at what thoughts
Could do to a person!
Evil is not a man,
And he should perish
At the hands of a man.
Listen, mother!
Your tears will dry up,
When you look at their cup –
It is filled with their favourite drink.
One day they will be so full,
They will never ask for another cup,
For they will be content
With the taste of their kinship’s blood.

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