Shadow Play
Just finger play above his head,
three little brothers in a bed;
light shafts beam, shadows command,
of airplane flight on ceiling spanned.
So great a love, this brother bond,
the brand of love that goes beyond
what mortal man asks of others,
answered only in a brother.
The sun will turn incessant rounds,
to rise one day on battlegrounds
that cover earth and sky and sea . . .
where little boys should never be.
That tiny one, the baby son,
who crowed with glee at childish fun
is caught in flash of light between
the crosshairs of an M16,
and those two older boys would give
their own sweet lives if he could live.
November 18, 2017
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