My head
dirt covered
lamenting father
grief prostrate
New grave
my son slain
innocent sweet soul
wasted life…
A whisper on the wind…
‘oh Papa.. cry not!
I am no longer
the poor farmer.’
‘I am now a prince
at home with God
and one day
you shall see.’
Old Afghan,
quite near
speaking softly
eulogizing
‘This sad day
now comes,
my son…
prince of men
now has gone
at home with God’
Old Afghan continued..
voice now quaking
sad his lament.
My mind’s eye
saw not my son
I saw…Satan,
but as a child
playing at our home
Gul Kako
my son called
with great love.
No longer
prince of men
this childhood friend
could not I see
only this Satan
killer of my son
Did you enjoy the the artible “What To Name..? (A True Afghan Story)” from Afzal Shauq on OZOFE.COM? Do you know anyone who could enjoy it as much as you do? If so, don't hesitate to share this post to them and your other beloved ones.
Leave a Reply