shahid

by brett newell-woods

(Upon seeing the frozen face of a martyr on a cell-phone screen…)

A line twisting down the street;
            Youth lost in the dust, running with heat
                        Carrying a blissful sleeper
            On their shoulders.
            Wrapped up, the Shahid here
Greets his night.
They scratch up their hearts
            And toss lead to the wind,
                        Bite their nails and drop to their shins
Covering old sins
                                    With the sheets of the sleeper,
That Shahid traveling deeper.
            And a few see them pixilated—
                        —Slated with a new war—
            To be annihilated and cast off
Like sacks of new world produce
                                    And the triggers who aren’t used
                        Wander in desperation for refuge.
            It’s no trick that the Arabic word for exile
                        Also means refuse.