When I Close My Eyes

I dream of blood in the dirt

I dream of flowers picked for the dead

I dream of trucks and guns and

untouched loaves of bread

I dream of shots to the neck

Shots to the head and shots to the chest

I dream of emaciated children

And hate-filled “lovers” in their Sunday best

I dream of the New York Times logo

I dream of the newscaster’s voice

I dream of the classroom’s harsh letters

I dream of the way I see the reds rejoice

I dream of missing my medicine

And I dream of my own lover’s home

I dream of eating until I’m full

And I dream of the iron dome

I dream of people running

I dream of people hiding away

I dream of people fighting

I dream of not seeing another day

I dream of brothers and sisters

I dream of fathers and mothers

I dream of people dying, and dying, and dying

I dream of seeing a world with no others

I dream of horrors the world has always known

And horrors we will know again

I dream of a day it will all be over

If only I knew when