by nematullah ahangosh

An Afghan Refugee Camp Summer 2020

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!

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By Nematullah Ahangosh

Cemetery in Kabul, Afghanistan

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…

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