Ten men are dressed in orange prison suits,
their hands bound behind their backs,
ten more in black uniforms, faces
swathed in black scarves. Each man
is matched with another, orange, black
orange, black as they march
in sand along the shore of a silent sea.
The men in orange kneel, each black-
clad man standing behind with a knife.
We fear the worst and, in this universe,
the worst happens.
But in that other place, the place
of peace, the men in black drop their knives
and throw their masks into the sand.
They unbind their brothers
and help them step out of the prison
suits. They shed forever their black
uniforms. Now twenty young men
stand nude in the bright sun.
They turn to the sparkling sea
and run into the water, each man
diving and splashing until he is cool
and refreshed. They help each other
onto the shore and into the shade,
share tea and sugar dates, discuss
their future plans: a marriage, an import-
export business, a wing on the house
for an old parent, for children.
They say: I would like to know more
about you, who are so much like me.