From farther down the road than I had been,
a road I’d traveled but had never picked,
came two old men who looked of warring kin,
their tribes engaged in topical conflict.

But as I neared the spot where they conversed,
beside a bridge that only one could cross,
I heard, “After you,” then, “No, please, you first.”
So I asked, producing a coin to toss,

“What’s down this road that goodwill should ensue?”
“Just as you’ve passed,” they said, “more of the same.
All people born learn grievances anew,
but when they die, so dies relented blame.”

“Then would that you could teach the young,” I said.
They laughed and patted me upon the head.

 

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