Fathers and Sons

There was once a wall of fear,
with father and son on either side.
It was a wall of anger and division,
but no one saw it - they'd just hide.

It was like East and West Germany,
soldiers patrolling the border.
Men in watch towers; under, squirming,
small people trying to see over.

What would it take to bridge the gap?
It seemed just like so much,
when all it took was to learn one's history,
replace walls with human touch.

But to this day, on either side,
father and son run.
One planting a flag, the other
extending an olive branch,
which the first mistakes for a gun.

There is no resolution
when loving acts
are taken as threats,
when men all live in anger,
when walls are all they erect.

Fathers and sons are distant,
distant as neighbouring stars,
whilst mothers are kindly Suns
light-kissing those in their charge.

What would the world be like
if we all shared one heart
and one mind?
I think we already do,
we feel so much.

Then why are we so blind?