To Kill a Swallow: A Poetic Response by Liam Coady

He tore a family in two
Like a sullen photograph of a time when happiness was a commodity
And She is left poor 
And she is left poor 
And she is left poor
And she is left poor
Loosing a son
A husband
A daughter
These victims stretch out across the Jordan like bridges for the weeping
Seeking the remains of loved ones in bomb blasted clothing
Their screams are like choirs singing through broken cameras

Before 
He took his fresh bride’s hijab off and touched her hair like it would wash away the doubt

And strapped her wedding garter across her bare stomach
A belt of explosives that brings no luck to those who catch it
And as she shook in fear she took bowl of water as if baptism would wash her away

He sold his soul so that he could be seen as the demon
So that maybe his actions would bring the profit of conclusion
But martyrs and murderers look too similar when left disjointed and burned in front of the eyes of the beholder

Because he took her husband and daughter
She was left to sit alone in the blue midnight
Picking up the letters of broken keyboards as if they were teardrops 
That will never stay cupped in her hands.

Her daughter’s voice will be left unspoken through phone messages
A western child finding joy in the eastern sun
She was no enemy to no one. 
But became the lifeless victim of a deadly waltz
With her story untold

And she misses her granddaughter
And her son now only shines when she thinks of happier times
No more will she scream, praising heavens on his return 
But rather yell to hell
They have killed my swallow

And her son is left with burning screenplays
Horror movies that couldn’t even fathom his final resting place
His fiction never to come close to his reality
He is a memory
On the right side of the supposed martyr
With insight to see that we are all Libras
And if the balance is equal, the blood must pour on both sides of the equation. 
Because both of them were made victims.