“God bless you.” The Muslim lady said.
And I boiled no intense ire
For God sees naught, but rushing red
And not my father’s fire.
The Buddhist spoke. “ Peace my friend.”
And like brothers we did speak
And that wall we did not mend
But let it grow full weak.
At every altar for God I asked
But found each still and bare
But when I stood there with my kin
I found God standing there.
I have made reference to Robert Frost’s Mending Wall.