War Poet.ca - A CFAP Project by Suzanne Steele

this country

Afghanistan. the red desert. mud wall villages, mud kilns 50 feet high. fins of mountain, ragged.
I want to climb the sky. we fly, we fly. whirly bird. the dust, the heat of props. frag vest. helmet. my ballistics tight. scarf wrapped over nose and lips. Captain protect me. we fly. we fly.

and on the front, night watch. dawn watch. we watch the wadis. village. the village watches us. little girl rolls her broken tire down dust road with a stick. herds of sheep. donkeys. harvest done, the beating of basil for next year’s seeds, I see over compounds women adjust scarves. they see me.

and in the CP your voice. over the VoIP. green man weary. now I understand your love. of this country. Pashto. you so near yet so far from me. this is not a country for taking strolls. but maybe. some day when you are an old man you can return to Afghanistan. light a pipe. share some tea.
maybe someday green man. maybe.

this country. you.
deserve peace


1 Comment (Closed)

Nancy Wilson

the best observations and thoughts yet.


Nov 14 2009 · 13:30

About This Page

The page you're reading contains a single diary entry entitled this country. It was posted here on November 14, 2009.


Complete diary archive