Good Neighbours - A short poem

Good Neighbours (or Mending Fences)
by Daniel Rabe (15 January 2012)

crossing the border to beat the man
crossing the border of a strange land
crossing the border to fight again

there is smoke in the sky
a concrete wasteland
the city's burning, it's a funeral pyre
our leaders have spilt their blood in the sand
and now this grief brings tears to my eyes

I pass a ruin on a quiet street
once a place of children playing
now just twisted corpses in the heat
and they're sinking 'cos the tar's melting
while the choking ash slowly covers my feet

now the boys are all gone
I hear their mothers wailing cries
for they know it won't be long
before their sons march off to die
marching to the beat of the battle drums

there is nobody left, my family is gone
they have also crossed to another side
killed by boys carrying knives and guns
just little boys from a nameless tribe
playing a game of cowboys and indians

crossing the border to beat the man
crossing the border of a strange land
crossing the border to fight again