High above the smothering ash,
The morning Dove looks on…
The carnage of the battlefield,
In early embers of dawn.

The battle of the earlier day,
Raged long into the night,
While signs of armies once engaged, are
Now hidden out of sight.

It was a battle both would claim
Was waged for what was right…
’twas a fight that both would say
Was fought with righteous might.

This was a war of differences…
In values and of men;
Both sides claimed their way was right,
And neither one would bend.

Still the morning dove was heard,
To cry above the reddened plains,
“How different can these brothers be,
When blood stains all the same.”