Aaron Bushnell at the Gate of Eternity

At the gate of eternity
Aaron Bushnell stood,
no longer waiting.

Of clear body
and clear mind,
of clear spirit
and clear voice,
he flicked open
a chasm of light
from some strange heaven
to this: our closest, 
darkest hell.

He was a child,
he was a man;
he could be my brother.

He could be my brother.

I wonder who loved him,
this soft-spoken American son
who spoke a language
only humanity could hear.

Who let him go
that way?
What led him to go
that way?
I think I know,
and I am afraid.

He flicked a light
and more light flew to him;
that awful light, which bore 
pain on its wings.

How could he stand it?
I do not know,
and I am afraid.

Forty-four seconds he burned;
and each one was a universe.

Six times he gave the cry
for Palestine;
and each one came from
a different place:
the first cry from conviction,
the second cry from danger,
the third cry from the precipice,
the fourth cry from thick floods of fire,
the fifth cry from apocalypse,
and the sixth cry from eternity.

To depths more hidden,
to choices and terrors more vivid,
to kingdoms of reality
more beautiful and more dreadful
than our own,
Aaron flew,
leaving light behind.

He stands forever
for his nation
at the gate
of heaven and hell,
no longer waiting.