by Vera Sidhwa
He was someone's dad.
He was someone's husband.
His 'enemy' was someone's dad,
And he was someone's husband.
They walked around,
A nation of beautiful fields,
The rice paddies enriched the landscape.
But the two men whose children couldn't see them,
Engaged in a tumultuous action.
The two dad's owned machine guns,
And they wore khaki.
They looked at each others' young face,
And opened fire till they were in a daze.
They opened fire into each other's God's place.
Their bodies lay dead.