Three Sons

Disking the rock strewn
Objected earth near Bet Shean,
Underneath the Middle Eastern sky
Rows of mean earth riven by the blades,
We cut away our anger, hate, and pride,
Stopping to drink, not from the liquor of
Fanatic corruption but from the
Precious water welling up,
Our oasis of  Jacob'd sharing,
In this Hanukah season
Of Christ's mass after
Ramadan.
 
We three sons of Abraham,
Muslim, Jew, and Christian,
Fight the true battle
Not each other but 
To be found worthy
In compassion
Giving,
And purity—
The true 
Submission
To God
Over
All.

—Daniel Wilcox

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