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