Sacred blood of mine
Lead me to my resting home
Down your crimson painted path
Where I’d meet some of my very own.

I’d meet my cousin
a proud man in his twenties
with a wide grin and a wound
that listed him as one of God’s attendees.

Mark my thresholds with your scent
so people smell death for long to come
a picture perfect dream is painted red
A family of 11 has carved down to one.

The mother that raised me
and a father who was proud
Never had a will to fight for
a childhood that I wasn't allowed

They came with their guns
I came within sight
None was shot down but the one
that couldn't put up a fight.

The heart stopped beating.
The soldiers did not,
they fired their bullets through
with an ounce of life I hurled a rock.

I greeted death with smiles
knowing that rock would be my last.
As a kid I had aspired.
A martyr met his fate alas.

On the bridge between life and death
I pondered upon and felt quite lost
Do martyrs really die as mortals ?
One way of knowing,content I strode across.