War Poet.ca - A CFAP Project by Suzanne Steele

for you at the shura

for AK, السلام عليكم

my pen has drunk from knowledge

Golden, soldier, Asaleem ‘Alaykum,
helmet off, frag vest on, cross-legged
on the rose petals of Persia’s carpets,
beside terps, behind elders, your OC,
inner ring, the stone dropped in the wadi;
sip cups of mint tea, scoop qabuli,
tear moons of naan, eat it with your gun hand,
inhale cigarillo puffs of Afghanistan, then
speak Pashto softly, speak the broken, beautiful land.
26 years old. You are a man. Though
innocence, wisdom, comes and goes. Like black storks.
Through drought, boredom, metal rain, adrenaline,
kohl-eyed angels of the curtain, the shalwar kameez ,
shall watch over you in the desert, again. I know.

terps – interpreters

About This Page

The page you're reading contains a single diary entry entitled for you at the shura. It was posted here on September 22, 2009.


Complete diary archive