For Kabul

for Kabul

Kabul, Kabul, Kabul !
are you sleeping well at night ?
Planes are flying down your dusty alleyways,
diving like sea-birds around the corners of your heart.
Down your laneways they are looking,
past your history,
past your prophets.
They look for lanterns, for lamp lights,
for young boy's eyes filled with fire.
They are looking for your future,
for a small child in her mother's arms;
I am calling her Sameena,
I am calling her the clear water pool where the goat's have gone for
drinking,
I am calling her the dawn.
I see her walking out into the light.
Imagine tomorrow,
how olives will be squashed between your fingers for the bread,
for the bread, Sameena,
and the poets will fly at night.