War Poet.ca - A CFAP Project by Suzanne Steele


I remember the mother of one of our soldiers who died in A’stan telling me how in his messages, letters, calls home, he spoke of the cold. how hard it was to get warm. how they couldn’t wear wool (too flammable). and she wanted to send him blankets or sweaters or socks, anything… that mother instinct so fierce, and I think she sent him those hand warmer things at last resort…

and this morning on the radio, news of forty Afghan children having died this winter in Kabul because of the cold. they were living in tents. displaced by war, the news reporter said. and it was too damned cold. too damned cold for little bodies. little people with not enough to keep them warm. too damned cold.

About This Page

The page you're reading contains a single diary entry entitled cold. It was posted here on February 21, 2012.


Complete diary archive