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A scene from Kabul Airport |04 September 2021

He lifts up his infant standing on an airstair,

To be picked up by an unknown American soldier,

In desperation, which has no limits,

He is an Afghan I do not know, in a peraahantunbaan and an azaarband.


His sadness, I will never come to know,

His tears I will never see,

He has lost all hope in himself,

He has lost all faith in his motherland and his people,

He only hopes that his innocent child will grow up in the Land of Promise.


He is one of us, a father who immensely loves his innocent child,

And decided to unselfishly part with it,

I do not know whether the child is a boy or a girl,

I do not know its name.


The gentle hands of an American soldier pick up the child,

Flourish like a flower my child, and may your life be longer.


The picture I saw has disappeared,

It is only etched in my memory. 






Flight to the US


Like sheep to the folding, they had rushed into the cargo plane,

In melancholy silence they sat on the floor,

They have no Samsonite or Rimowa luggages,

Only a handful of belongings, wrapped up in cloth.


No checking-in at counters for them,

No visas or passports,

No smiling stewards or air hostesses to greet them,

Only kindness of the human heart to accept them.


They were the fortunate ones,

“Joyendaabendaast” as they say in Dari,

They were determined and succeeded in boarding the aircraft,

Many others tried, but did not succeed.


They were going to a land that they do not know of,

But held promise if not for them, for their children,

They relied on the Afghan proverbs, “the world is a traveller’s inn”,

And “where your heart goes your feet will go”.





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