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,
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.