My Brothers        by Tom Cook

 
  What are we that walk these fields?
               Bone covered, red with hate, man against man.
  Who are we that fight these wars?
               Nation upon nation, brother upon brother, man against man.
  What country are we in this world full of hate?
               North unto south, east unto west, red unto white and blue.
  Where are our brothers that we've so long been without?
               Ireland and Scotland, England and Iceland, Palestine and Afganistan.
  When will we see them in times not of war?
               The beginning, the end, the impossible, the after.
  How will we fight our brothers?
               Annihilate, murder, kill, destroy, torture, crucify.
  Are our brothers patriots, do they recieve similar praise?
               They are enemy, forsaken, infidels, family.
  What makes us patriots if our allegiance is not to our brethren?
               Righteousness, power, force, nothing.
  Are we still worthy of patriotism if our allegiance is not to a nation, but to mankind?
               Fight, die, declare.
  What of love, what if we don't kill?
               Traitor, communist, defector, enemy.
 
  We are not held in place by the righteousness of nations.
               Stop, fall-in.
  We renounce your foolish pride, stupid ways. We are patriots of earth.
               Kill, fight, kill.
  Why?
               . . .