Martyr

If only I'd been there.
Your face could have made me an award-winning photojournalist, overnight.
One click of my shutter,
Macro zoom,
Wide angle,
Short depth of field
Timed perfectly.
It would have been brilliant.
Your face
After feigning sleep for hours
Arm shifting uncomfortably beneath the flimsy blanket they gave you

One shot. Not yet…
Waiting those crucial seconds,
I would not flinch when the loud pop rang out,
Startling everyone
Your eyes suddenly open
Darting to the left, down, left
Brow furrowed
Nostrils flared at the first waft of smoke
Mouth horridly agape
Pupils dilating with the realization that this is not paradise.
Click.
One picture of the underwear bomber,
Cover of both Time and Newsweek
I could have become famous on your failure.
I never would have taken it.
I'm glad they caught you trying to kill them.
Your safety belt was still fastened
Because, you never know when your plane might crash.
Hand still in your pants
Clutching a melting acid syringe
Smoke billowing from your lap, then flames.
You pretended as though you didn't know what was happening.
Liar, Liar. Your pants betray you.

Fodder for the late-night talk shows
They started calling you Captain Underpants
It was funny.
It wouldn't have been.

Young man, I don't know how you pronounce the words,
But where I come from there's a difference between MARTYR and MURDER.
They say you went to good schools,
But what your friends in Yemen didn't teach you
Is that martyrs only become martyrs by being killed for defending their beliefs.
Killed.
By another person.
You can't kill yourself and call it persecution.
It doesn't work that way.
You tried to kill strangers.
Christians and Muslims.
Men, women, and children.
Who on that plane even thought they were at war with you?
Ignorant of their personal politics,
But so willing to end their lives.
So sure the next sight you would see was paradise.
There are no virgins for you!
There never would have been.
No God would reward such a slaughter.
How dare they tell you it would make you a martyr?

I'd have put down the camera to stop you.
Foregone the photo,
Risked my life to save many.
I will never be a passive victim.
So bring it, if you're gonna.
Make me a martyr.
Let me die standing up for what I believe,
In the defense of the defenseless,
Speaking out against injustice,
And not flinching.
Let me die for showing compassion,
Reaching out to the hurting, like you,
Living outside of my comfort zone.
Daring to one day forgive such an atrocity.
If you're going to kill us,
Let me live my last days,
My last moments in the footsteps of Jesus
A man you call "Prophet"
Who said "Blessed are the peacemakers...
...for they will be called the sons of God."
Make me a martyr.
Because you're sure not going to make me a photojournalist.