- for Jan Palach
Once his flesh began to burn
what did he discover
under his skin? Was his heart
crushed, burning down
to a diamond? Or was it coal, just more fuel?
What did Jan's mother think of him
burning off the skin she tended
with love and concern? When
she saw his charred, black bones
did she understand? Did she see a martyr
or just her son on fire
in the middle of the street?
After a minute of burning
the synapses are singed away,
the brain shuts down, refuses to acknowledge
the severe damage being inflicted
on the body. Laying numb
on the cobblestone,
looking up at the sky,
did Jan find the peace
he was burning for? Or did he find the violence
he was protesting, the violence he was fleeing,
had penetrated his flesh
and he could only pray
his bones would find the sun
as quickly as possible?
© 2007 Joseph Kerschbaum
lives in Bloomington, Indiana. His latest chapbook, Dead Stars Have No Graves
