Spark Poem by Kristen James

O Muse, play me the music,
of times long ago and times yet to come
bring your eternity to me
in the form of the plucking of your strings.
I call to you
in hopes that you will protect me
along with my remaining brothers in arms,
let us survive this war that we wage
on the land and in our hearts.

The arctic cold and merciless wind
of this grey rock
on which we rest
reflects our moods
on this day.
Armit the Swift
was not swift enough in this instance.
He is lying in the pit in front of me
as cold in the heart
as the core of this planet.
Dirt is tossed in
as prayers are chanted
to the gods above,
asking for a swift passage for
our swift friend
to the Heavens above.
The people of my home are oppressed.
Their oppressors once tried
their tricks on me.
That is why I am standing here today.
Fighting for what is right,
though what is right is often so hard to find.
I know this is right.
I will not be under the control of others ever agian.
People call us terrorists,
the things we do seem to be terrible,
until one see's the necessity of it.
Until one realizes
that we are fighting
for the freedom to make decisions.
To do what we desire.
To have what we desire.
It is necessary.

Everyone will see that soon enough.
Until then,
we must remain in hiding.
My only moment of reconciliation
is found when the sun shines
on the girl
that feeds the animals,
even the most dangerous ones,
by offering the food from her own hand.
She will understand.
She is kept close to the heart of our oppressors,
for she is the daughter
of one of the officials.
Her father stands for everything wrong in the world.
I need to save her;
from being brainwashed,
from becoming something she is not,
from turning in to her father.
If I cannot save her,
the cause will no longer matter.
All will be lost.
The anxiety grows in me everyday,
knowing that she will
soon be a lost cause.
Though it is by far my biggest strife
many things contribute.
Only the strongest
will survive this war
and only the lucky will come out
with just physical scars.
I cannot think straight
should I allow
thoughts of the girl
to consume my mind,
or should I be plotting,
planning for the operations?

The fact that my attention strays
every waking moment back to my lovely
animal keeper,
has proven to me that saving her
is a necessity,
as it has always been,
but now, the need is urgent.
I cannot ignore my thirst for her company any longer,
I need her the way the Earth
needs rain,
the way human beings
need love,
and the way on of my beloved's
hummingbirds need
the sweet taste of a flower's nectar.
I yearn for her the way
a tree yearns for the sun.
The trees are not the only ones
wishing for the arrival of the suns rays,
for on the surface of this icy planet,
I miss the sun
that I gallop through in my dreams
endlessly running towards my love.
I miss the sun in this endless night,
the moon is at its peak,
a full, round eye
glowing in the sky.
It was under this full moon
that the team has finally
arrived at a decision.
We are moving in.
On the capital city.
We will soon be in control or dead,
which ever happens first.

...

This plan was thought up in haste,
that can be the only reason
it has failed.
We entered the city,
and everything was fine.
For a time.
Then it happened.
The glass erupted around us.
Our huddled group fled in all directions,
ducking through doorways
and flattening against walls,
though none knew from where the
hail of bullets had come.
We were not the only ones that were alarmed.
All of the citizens roaming around,
a few now bloodied from glass shards,
had a scared look in their eyes.
They thought it was us.
They thought we were behind this attack.
They did not know that we were in the center of this dispute,
and for once,
we were not the ones holding the guns.

This close to the capitol,
one would expect
a system.
A way for all of the citizens to get to safety
in the occurrence of an attack.
But this was not so.
I saw people being shoved through doorways,
screaming children hauled away from street.
Then I saw her.
My beloved.
She ran through the center of the street.
Dark, thick hair flying
behind her like a cape in the wind.
She was stupid.
As she reached the gate of the government building,
she hesitated.
I now swear that she looked me straight in the eyes.
Her eyes red from the tears streaming
down her cheeks,
my eyes unfocused
and watering from the smoke
produced by a fire
that had started
resting in the street.
In her moment of hesitation,
her body was ripped sideways
as bullets rained down upon her
peppering her skin,
causing a flood of red
to leak into the street.
Now it was tears wetting my eyes,
sobs escaping my throat,
and grief blacking out my vision.
I felt her loss
as if a piece of my soul
had just been ripped away from its whole.
Apparently,
the escaped part,
was the part that kept one sane.
Because now that she was gone,
I could no longer control myself.
It was an out-of-body experience-
to see my body rising,
walking towards the government building,
remarkably not getting
annihilated the way she had.
Pulling down the flag of my frozen country,
a pulling out a match.
I just needed a spark.
Once I had my spark,
I fed the flag to it,
and ever the hungry little beast,
the fire devoured our country's colors.
I stood and prayed as it blackened and shriveled,
finally reconnected with my body.
Not until the last verse of my prayer,
did the spray of bullets hit me.
I fell to my knees
and muttered my last words
'Peace be to the fallen, let this war end'

But it didn't.
For I was the spark,
and no one had yet learned
the danger of a spark.