The Yard by Mikha'el R. Behr

The Yard

I once could see, we clearly disagreed,
even though you looked like me.

And, some who had not looked like me,
at times, I found we could agree,

on issues, and formalities steeped
in years of commonality.

But then the riots came, as
fringes worked their wedge between

the realm of peace and sanity,
dominion given to what our eyes can see

that I look not like you, nor you like me,
our mantras shout, "Bring death to thee!"

Now primitive it must all seem,
that morality dwells only in our dreams,

and paradise held in ill regard
has diminished to a lonesome prison yard;

where survival's defined by trust in skin
instead of the people we were within.

Reduced by hatred that divides each other,
the thickness of blood, the thinness of water.

                                     - M.R. Behr