Poem for September 11.

Don’t kill your brothers on behalf of me,
Because father will never kill his own sons,
Don’t pay homage to me,
If your hands are soaked with your brothers’ blood.

Today my name is called,
They are crying, so am I,
I am watching my children fall,
They are asking me why.

Is it because we call our father’s name differently,
Or, we belong to different belief,
That makes them have no sympathy,
Father, is it your will to allow this thing to happen?

My children, you are all fools,
You don’t see the illusion of name,
My love, you are all fools,
You kill each other on behalf of my name.

Your harmony is my will,
To create this world,
Your co-existence is my will,
In order to sustain this world.

Wake up my children,
If you want to see your father again,
Compassionate to your brothers,
If you want to come back home again.

 

Tae (Kriengsak Athikomvittaya)