Congenital Tribes Poem by Mary Champion

The Human Race is - one - let's live in peace.
Why do our tribes so often go to war?
Love all your neighbours - let all conflict cease;
seek out the reasons for our fractious core.
We can't deny divisions that reside
within us from the instant we're conceived -
each chromosome of kindred genes inside
each cell that constitutes us, is perceived.
And yet, in spite of this, sweet harmony
means they co-operate, to make us whole.
But does the crippled tribe of X and Y
provide the reason we cannot control;
those passions that give rise to variance?
Is this the monstrous mismatch that affects
our egos with such pride and arrogance?
And will its crucifixion, Y to, X,
when every tribe's complete, and in its place,
mean God's sweet peace will permeate our race?