Member-only story
Your ancestors fired bullets, buried mines
My forebears dropped bombs, napalm
Apples and oranges locked in fruitless war
Yet, two generations later
We embrace as brothers, neighbors, friends
You describe us as
Apples to apples.
What a miracle,
The sweetness of change in the hearts of men
Seeds grow a lovely orchard, though
Planted in the soil of pain.
