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For The Free Syrians Behind Bars

You, shoulders hunched on cots in prison cells tonight,
you whose bodies are bound in rubber tires
or hung by meat hooks (for bludgeoning),
you who are dragged to torture tables by your hair,
to sit with vertebrae force-arched beyond their stresspoints,
may our love reach you tonight. May it come between
the truncheon and your jawbone, may it weaken
every jolt from cable taped to your flesh.
When interrogators finish with you for the night,
may you feel this balm we wipe on your skin: our love,

we anoint you with it. Our honor for you, our cherishing, let it come
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