My brothers

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

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