The Dying Terrorist

A Poem by Priyal Thakkar

fear isn't a halo

Name five things you love
hey don’t cheat
don’t look up.
The sky is falling
the world is closing in on us.
If the apocalypse were coming,
would you be able to save the five things you love?

The ‘things' can be anything!
a thought bubble strutting on two hind legs
a hurricane of words, leather bound
the scarlet glow of a joyous shriek
Anything YOU want them to be.

C’mon you’re using up your time,
death doesn’t give you just one second more.
Its claws are closing in on your throat
quick what five words come out of your mouth?

Look beyond the bodies that haunt you
don’t mind all the blood on your hands,
honey you’re going to hell,
aren’t you glad you’re going to be reunited with friends?

Please try to remember who you were
before propaganda ruined you,
before they chained your hands to arsenal
and your mind to faux-salvation.

No love, you can’t blame it on your childhood,
stop wasting your breath on excuses.
Keep breathing, you haven’t named anything yet!

I know you’re about to give in
I know you don’t want these to be your last words.
Darling please make this easy for me,
give me five gusts of wind
I can blow our daughter’s way
when she asks me who her father was
and why he died this way.

You’re probably right,
you’ve lost your ability to save.
This soul only knows destruction now.

Well don’t worry I’ll feed her imaginary tales.
How her father was a hero
with his heart in the wrong place.

Will you pray with me from above,
to help her see
the world we live in?
Or will she pay the price
of your sins?