We live in a world
Where we shoot off bombs
To celebrate “freedom,”
Thereby shaking the bones and flesh
Or every damned soul that “won” it,
Taking their own fractured bones
And praying that for the night
They’ll keep it together.
But the explosions are too loud, too much for them to ignore,
And instead of this so called Liberty,
They get Iraq and Afghanistan,
Vietnam and Korea,
Germany and Japan-
Blasting up in their faces
Like their best friend’s body
Laying there, still and weak in death.
So they fold within themselves,
And their lovers try and comfort them,
But they push them away, saying,
“No. Not tonight, it’s too real. Not tonight.”
They fall asleep in a pool of their own tears.

When I was little,
I thought the fireworks were for my birthday,
To celebrate a new year,
Because in my own little microcosm
It wasn’t the sound but the color,
The fire lighting up the sky at nightfall
Because we couldn’t bare to leave the sunset.
But now that I’m older I see the sunset
Not as ice cream but as a battlefield,
Torn with blood, the blood of lovers and best friends,
The blood rushing to my head as my father
Slams it into a kitchen counter,
Because I understand these bombs!
I understand the pain of the thoughtless reminders
That hell exists, and that you saw it!
And ever time you see that thing,
You feel like you’re going to die,
Because dying is all you have left!
So you just plug your ears and try,
Try hard not to think about Desert Storm
Or Dachau or Baghdad, or your father
But the thought is already there
And it cannot escape.
So now all you can do is lie back,
Pray that the bombs don’t kill your lover,
And wait.