A woollen blanket on his back –
treads the winding dirt track;
a pilgrimage, this – to his old,
home-town, once Afghanistan’s
royal showpiece, fifteen miles west
of Kabul. Today, only ghosts stay on;
razed to the ground, the late King’s
villa with its priceless Italian tiles,
three kitchens and a golf course.
Its arch of triumph – a paltry pair
of pillars; the top – blown away...
elegant, swan-necked lamp posts
rusting where they fell...
Pastel pink walls of the Bahar Hotel,
gape at moody, shell-shocked skies.
On an avenue, once lined with nut-trees,
and with poplars, four Doric columns
mark the entrance to a pile of rubble
where the mosque had stood. He comes
to pray for his wife, three sons and two
daughters; a direct hit – a rocket, some
ten years since. ‘‘Everyone bombs us,
now,” he says. “Al Qaeda, Taliban,
Nato, and so called ‘Government’.”
A plume of smoke, that morning, tainting
fields and orchards he’d tended all his life;
its stench – permeates his every nightmare.
A fractured picture frame – remnants
of a house with the sky for a roof; a mound
of rocks and a slender pole where a green flag
limply hangs, mark their grave. Lays six,
crimson roses, growing wild, at the side
of the road on one-time lush verges; turned
septic – mined, so dangerous, few venture
there. “Nothing remains,” he tells them.
No anger in his voice. Just pain.
Comments
Highhat | August 21, 2011 - 15:37
Very moving- a powerful piece Tina- well done
;)Pia
MistakenMagic | August 21, 2011 - 16:54
"A fractured picture frame – remnants
of a house with the sky for a roof; a mound
of rocks and a slender pole where a green flag
limply hangs, mark their grave."
- love these lines, Tina. A very moving piece. You have a real power for empathy and it really shows in this beautiful poem. Well done on the cherrypick!
Magic xxx
Silver Spun Sand | August 21, 2011 - 18:30
Pia...many thanks. One I have worked on for some time and so your words are more than rewarding;-)
Tina
Silver Spun Sand | August 21, 2011 - 18:31
Magic, thank you;-)
This one has been a long time in the writing, and I am so pleased you got such a lot from it.
Tina xxx
Highhat | August 22, 2011 - 06:08
You know Tina- I really think this one is so brilliant. I just had to come back to it. It is a snapshot that says so much about this terrible war. I wish more people would read it. You should put it in a paper.
truly well done.I am so glad that you posted it. I really wish for peace in this beautiful country for it's wonderful people who have suffered so much. I think the part about the bombs coming from anyone is very tell-tale. Isn't it sad?
atb
;)Pia
Silver Spun Sand | August 22, 2011 - 06:43
Hi, Pia;-) Many thanks for your words.
And yes, the the reference to the bombs does 'say it all', I fear and more, perhaps. So very, very sad.
Hope the sun is shining for you this morning, at least;-)
Tina;-)
skinner_jennifer | August 22, 2011 - 13:20
What to say Tina,
I think Pia summed it up perfectly with her last
comment. I just couldn't have put it better.
A poem that must have taken you a long time to
write, I thought you expressed those feelings so
well.
Congratulations on the cherries, they were really well deserved on this one.
Jenny.
Silver Spun Sand | August 22, 2011 - 13:33
How kind of you,Jenny;-) Thank you...and yes I did fill up the odd waste-paper basket or two with this one before I got it right.
So pleased you got something from it.
Tina
sue dinum | August 22, 2011 - 16:59
Tina, your writing always takes me places. You write in pictures which I love and you have the ability to move people, make them taste and smell things, make them feel. And there is always an underlying sensuality, and I think I have said it before and at the risk of repeating myself - you are subtle in execution and powerful in effect. Lovely stuff, a very moving and eloquent piece.
sue
Silver Spun Sand | August 22, 2011 - 18:30
sue - I thank you for your words...eloquent as they were, and always are.
Have a good week;-)
Tina
barryj1 | August 23, 2011 - 13:00
For Americans the war is a neverending nightmare. The government (i.e. not the citizenry) won't give it up), and so, in a perverse sort of way, we are all complicit. Nice poem/sentiments.
Silver Spun Sand | August 23, 2011 - 15:41
Yes, barry, I guess it must be. A complex situation, as you so eloquently point out.
Many thanks for reading, and for giving us your perspective on things.
Tina