Our children are not killers
by Mary McLaughlin Slechta

The tow-headed child in the pointy hat
is there for the barbecue
and cutting the watermelon.

Remember that.

The Palestinian boy throws rocks
for the weight in his hand
as much for his father's approval.

My sons take aim at video screens
and reopen consecrated battlegrounds
to avoid homework.

Our children are not killers
and haters.

Like scissors, rock, and paper
it's all play.

So when does it change?
When do they become men?

When one raises a burning cross,
another avenges his father's death,
and mine think their president is smart
because his bombs are.

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