He kisses the forehead of his blank-faced son.
just murdered son.
his first born, only son.
touches his fingers to the freshly drawn blood
spilling from the bullet hole in the young
thirteen year old heart.
He brings it to his lips and tastes hatred.
Hatred clouds his bloodshot eyes and
he staggers to his feet with his hand up to God.
Here was his son unjustly martyred
who shall be dully revenged.
Here was his enemy’s father’s father
himself at last avenged.
Animosity of yesterday dwarfed
by the blinding bloodlust of today.
And broken hearted father
crosses his own hardened heart.
Peace is obsolete, peace is ridiculous.
The philosophy here is simple—common sense.
You killed my son
indeed I shall take yours.