Religious martyrs become angels

In awe of their mistranslations

Let to drip like ink on this page

And their previous rage transforms

Into fear- splatters and tatters

A-matter-of-factly in drops of sweat and blood

Falling from the other side like rain on

Blossoms budding bloody virgins

To replace those seventy-two

Waiting on the other side

For Muslim extremists tumbling

Towers of Babel on talking tongues

Too young to understand firearm politics

Shot from the riches of The powerfully wealthy

inflict third world countries with small pox.

Blankets wrap baby’s shriveling bodies

Like a death shroud that has accepted the warmth-

Waiting on the other side

On the other side, the reality must be better.

It must be possible to take a breath without despair.

It must be possible to taste the simple beauty of food

As if each bite was the first kiss that graced your lips.

And, it must be possible to forget your worries in order

To race after dreams that skip around the air like fireflies

In the dark that is now, these lights would be tracers

Outlining paths of destruction and devastation

That in the grander scheme of things- will take these

Children to the fields where fireflies are waiting-

Waiting on the other side

Dreams grow wings and fly into innocent hands.

That bottle these very dreams into temporary capsules

Of clear glass jars, which provide night-lights

So that the future-

the coming day-

is never uncertain;

Rather, it is marked by firefly dreams

Which in the morning are allowed to fly free.

For these children seem to remember their past lives,

And for that, they refuse to allow any living thing,

Especially their own dreams, to remain trapped for too long.

These children realize that dreams in jars will leave nothing-

Waiting on the other side.