Friday, May 25, 2018

Poem - All The Murdered Daisies

All The Murdered Daisies

Martha, you are gentle
Holding daisies by the doorway
Behind you the little screen
Showing Damascus awash in bullets
I would take a picture here
Had you not blinked from the sounds
Drowning out the song of your birds
Who would land on your balcony in the early morning
To await your feed
Light near your hand and
Force themselves not to come closer
The sparrow you saved
Blind in one eye, lived his life in your room

Now, I, long past the airport
Turn to my own little screen
Showing your brothers dying
Your sisters’ blood spilling over
Martha, I told you to pray for your people
I will pray for mine
We were caught in a pendulum of opposites
Though you were
split by the swing
I am awaiting its return
When your people may pity me
I am sorry, Martha
I was sleeping late
There was no time for kindness

I am sorry
Your last vision not even of sky
Cold glacier eyes staring back
Screams tearing your ears
Theirs mixing with your own until the
Pain in your throat
Peaked as air escaped windpipe
Your head pulled back
Eyes open
“Why are you doing this to me?”
Knife breaking free
Of your spine

And that is all
It was over
You returned to everything
Abandoned the infinitesimal small
The shouting is done
Your home is quiet
Only the hum of machines and
Muffled voices

I am sorry, Martha
There was only silence
After the last pierced bird fell and
All the murdered daisies
Were trampled underfoot.

Brandon Turbeville © Copyright 1/29/18

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