Andy Szikla. Blood Brothers

Blood Brothers

He went home, to the farm after three violent years
He had some medals, and a scar from his chest to his ear
Working the field, his father paused but they didn’t embrace
His father said “son, look at the bounty your brother has made”

So he looked to the mountain, where the harvest had grown tall and green
He got there at sunset, as his brother was burning a field
His brother fell laughing, at the fool who had gone to the war
So he picked up a handle, and beat his brother till he laughed no more

The face of the moon, looks on us as it craves flesh and blood
It longs to be real, not reflections of light in the dust
To rise like a river, that brings power and change where it floods
To stand like a tiger, on the mountain of somebody’s love

He put his brother, into the river to wash him away
Down to the valley, where the withered crops lie in the shade
There he was wakened, in the night on the banks of that stream
By one who would take him, to a house where his wounds were made clean

She showed him a kindness, which he vowed he would one day repay
So he worked in her field, for a time when his strength was regained
He shared what he knew, and her good fortunes were quick to be seen
He thought about leaving, but something in them just agreed

The face of the moon, looks on us as it craves flesh and blood
It longs to be real, not reflections of light in the dust
To rise like a river, that brings power and change where it floods
To stand like a tiger, on the mountain of somebody’s love

He led his father, down from the mountain when war had arrived
They left their farm, they left all they had and took only their lives
Where the valley turned green, he found his brother and wife where they stayed
He asked them for shelter, and they took his father, but turned him away

Late In the night, two shots fell heavy and his father cried
“You’ve taken my son, you’ve taken my daughter, now I curse that you’re mine”
He put them in the field, and made a great fire to cover his shame
But the flames beat him down, down into the river that swept him away

The face of the moon, looks on us as it craves flesh and blood
It longs to be real, not reflections of light in the dust
To rise like a river, that brings power and change where it floods
To stand like a tiger, on the mountain of somebody’s love