Mayor of Kabul

My heart beats
like jack boots
marching on dusty streets

The only place to hide
is beneath a veil
I fought to decline

They come
to poison up the well
We’re waiting
it’s all there is

Each of my children
take a finger on my right hand
a little fist around each one

And my husband
grips the other hand
as we dearly clutch our tears

They come
to bleed this well dry
We’re waiting
it’s all there is

Future orphans
future widower
Will my hands
ever be mine again
Is this inevitable
or can my hands
remain free…


Note: Liberal poetic licence with the truth employed but inspired by this story:

Published by

Tom Alexander

"Art is a lie that tells the truth"

9 thoughts on “Mayor of Kabul”

    1. I do hope so Peter. Sadly, the withdrawal agreement Trump’s US made with the Taliban was done without even involving the government of Afghanistan; effectively handing the country to them on a specified date. So, 20 years of progress for nothing. I realise there isn’t a whole lot of hope in this poem, but I do hope things will improve there and without many more of the heart-breaking scenes of the last 2-3 weeks. Thanks for reading and commenting, I always appreciate it.

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you Sam, I’m so pleased you thought so. I’m not very well practised at writing about this kind of thing, but the news story really moved me and the stories of what has been happening are hauntingly sad so I had to say something about it. Thanks for reading.


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