The Son of Another Mother

i remember that summer,
the air was hot, and heavy...
smothering me.
hot air was everywhere,
i was breathing in the same air
i had just breathed out.
and it was hot air...hot.
that summer I learned what a bad touch was.
that summer the air was hot.

i remember silence, 
no "hi"'s,
no "hello"'s,
no splashing water,
no "Marco"'s,
no "Polo"'s!
we closed our doors.
we locked our gates.
we were inside.
they were out.
we sweat in the same summer sun.
we listened to the same song.
isolated, yet united... by the air,
and it was hot air...hot.
that summer i learned that being right,
did'nt mean you were'nt wrong.
that summer the air was hot.

i remember
i joined in on the wait,
for what, i didn't know.
i looked around at familiar faces,
heard Carly singing "Anticipation",
we listened, and waited.
that summer i learned to have,
meant someone must have not.
that summer the air was hot.

i remember
it felt like Christmas morning,
only twisted, and dark.(
i don't think it was the fourth of July,
yet gunshots fired into the night,
into the dark forests of 'Nam,
where a boy, (like my brother),
and a woman, (like my mother),
held each other close.
that summer, i learned to change the future
with the power of thought.
that summer the air was hot.

i remember the fighting.
fingers pointing,
we need a name to blame.
who gave our children rifles?
don't tell me
jane's to blame
winning doesn't make you good,
anymore than losing makes you evil.
that summer i learned that
we might be wrong about Satan,           
maybe he just took the blame.
that summer the air was hot.

hot...i remember
that summer the air was hot.
prayer, made the air bitter that day.
every mother, self centered,
and brokered for a fix,
calling in their marks,
each mother asking God
to spare her son.
none of the numbers called,
were his,
another would go instead.
another sent to fight,

that summer i learned
it was not my brother,
it was the son of another Mother.
that summer the air was hot.