poetry

Afghanistan and Me

Last summer,

I saw pictures of Afghanistan during its day of Glory

And I wept,

It was a strange feeling of melancholy I couldn’t explain

For the place, I have never been

Towards the people, I have never seen

It lies now in ruins

From a relentless battle

So am I.

Tired, worn out and in ruins

As if all the luck in your share

Runs out,

And everything you touch turns to ashes

Waking up to a bomb explode every day

Reminiscing old days,

Now faintly, fading memories

In a world dominated by US, Europe

And Russia

I am Afghanistan

Someday my lost glory will return

Dust will turn to gold again

 

 

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