by nematullah ahangosh
most stories end up beautiful
only some end so awful
like when the bullets,
pregnant as almonds,
fast as fear
pierce like glass
the skins on streets of Kabul
beautiful stories?
i don’t even know what that is
you mean flowers of war?
oh? i know those!
they are survivors
like sheep grazing on the fields of others
with trembling legs
fearing the field owners will arrive
and chase them like wolves
By Nematullah Ahangosh
Our every street,
Our every porch,
Our every balcony,
Our very hearts bleed,
Your every street,
Your every porch,
Your every balcony,
Your very hearts don’t beat.
Your solidarity,
And our society are alien,
While you forget,
We don’t forget
the monster we hate,
which is the war ahead.
Until we forget
we realize everyone is dead
including your solidarity,
which is absent
which is late.
Writing by Afghan writers. Editor/Publisher: Nancy Antle; Editor: Pamela Hart
