Prayer for War
by Rachel Eliza Griffiths
May you rest in peace
upon the charred palms
of soldiers who held your name,
like an oil lamp, in their hearts.
May you never need to amputate
another limb or dream. Let kaddish & weeping
settle in the gutted drums of your ears. Your name
split like wood by bouquets of tongues.
May you turn your face from the eyes of
widowed children & women. May you gather
the skulls heaped like grenades in a desert
of dusty helmets. May you lie facedown
like a spine of text in a burning book. May you burn
your own hands & penises.
May you wear a different uniform with no decoration.
May you claim a haunted house, abandoned
by the rest of the village. May you return infants
to their ash-littered beds before the very moment
their fathers are shot out in the yard.
May you pull down your veils of green smoke &
teargas from the sky. May you drink puddles
from blood & urine lingering on village roads
& upon the soles of women's feet, unable to run
fast enough to sidestep your desire. May you watch
your own family be shot, your mother, your brother,
& your sister all raped by your dearest friends.
May you sign the papers for your own exile.
May you stop feeding rats your museum of flesh.
May you sign the papers for your own execution.
May you surrender to those who curse your
progeny. May they never apologize
for hating your red shadow.