One is eldest
One is the youngest
Both are noble
Humble
two sons
two brothers
Years and wars apart
Refugee and drought apart
Both I love so dearly
One carried me on his back
Six years of age when we fled our first home
He told me folklore and sang for me
One I have carried on my back
I’m older than him
That’s my baby brother
In broken mother tongue
He sings to my sons, Somali lullaby in a foreign land
To him, it’s home part of us has
Adopted the snow as our own
And we clap for him as he skis downhills in macawis
convosfromwithin 