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Volume 2, Issue 3
Autumn 2006:

If It Were Possible

Brian T. Maurer

Cell 2 Soul. 2006 Autumn; 2(3):a13

If it were possible (knowing it is not),
My one desire would be
To descend Dante-like to the depths of hell
In search of terrorist suicides.

If it were possible (knowing it is not),
I would call them gently by name,
Lead them back to the country I call home,
To stand before the mountain
Of rubble, reeking decayed flesh—
Corpses dismembered beyond recognition
Hollow faces numb with fear
Crimson faces hot with anger
Gleaming faces streaked with tears
Faces bowed in prayer.

Then, if it were possible (knowing it is not),
I would lead them to the high hill
That overlooks the valley of shadows
Where fourteen thousand newly-orphaned children
Search blank-faced, straining to hear
The voices of mothers and fathers
Nowhere to be found.

If it were possible (knowing it is not),
We would visit churches, synagogues,
Temples and mosques of all kinds and shapes
Where brides and grooms exchange vows,
Where infants are baptized,
Where eulogies are spoken
To honor the dead, those taken from us
In moments of passion,
Born of ignorance and hate.

And, if it were possible (knowing it is not),
I would turn to them and say:
"Are not my people your people?
Is Allah not Jehovah not Yahweh not Elohim?
If you murder my children, do you not murder your own?
If you sin against my God, do you not sin against your own?"


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