"Two Black Hawks"

The day breaks open like an over-incubated egg into brisky and hot halves,
Perfect timing to serve vengeance like cold ice cream,
And bury the hatchet with the hands that bore it first.

The hands that dealt the first gruesome blow,
The hands smeared with the blood of innocent citizens,
Dragged into the cauldrons of death by religious bigotry. 

The Black Hawks swooped with precision and mastery on their targets
Years of sweats and swears
Have prepared them for this flight;

Their target hides in the haven of forgotten sins 
far away from the scene of his crime ,
Praying to a bloodthirsty god
With a blood-stained subha
Held within trembling fingers 

Death came by the first shot
And several shots rained
To wet the parched throats
Of dead voices calling for revenge.

Dedicated to the victims of 9/11 attack