Tuesday, July 07, 2009

Arrival in the Emptiness

you in Afghanistan who remember
only war – you on a dirt road
slicing your life in half – you leaning
against a full train, picture captured
by a photographer from Finland –

don’t think yourself unique, or jewel
in amber, wind-song in downtown
eaves, the last inhalation of dust
before rainfall on rusted rails –
midnight whistle of departure
from port – don’t think yourself
arrival on the plane of yesterday –

the wind which whipped waves
against the breast of Europe,
the wind which unsettled each
carefully constructed agreement –
that wind now is a sullen traveler
on Asian dirt roads, the Indian cone,
Africa waiting for the circle
to be closed – that wind swirls dust
as though trying to recreate

and in recreation, Afghanistan remains,
constant, steps from one IED
to the next – a discussion in old age
homes, where the waltz at meals
is regression to when – time
was delivered in body bags –
one stillborn future after the next

1 comment:

Aisha said...

History repeating itself--
you are getting quietly better at writing the war poem /refugee poem to end all --

and Finland in a poem: now that is something I like.

Seriously,
"that wind now is a sullen traveler
on Asian dirt roads,"

Sadly true:

don’t think yourself unique, or jewel
in amber,

Have you posted this in any forums-- have oyu sent it out? You should.