Our Martyr

When the people have won a victory whether small or large do you ever wonder at that moment where the martyrs might be? They who sacrificed themselves to bring to life something unknown though nonetheless more precious than their blood. I like to think of them hovering over us wherever we have gathered to weep and to rejoice; smiling and laughing, actually slapping each other's palms in glee. Their blood has dried and become rose petals. What you feel brushing your cheek is not only your tears but these. Martyrs never regret what they have done having done it. Amazing too they never frown. It is all so mysterious the way they remain above us beside us within us; how they beam a human sunrise and are so proud.