On Kabul’s Streets


He looked at the market place
And saw juvenile visages
Running around with kites
In their palms, waiting for lift off
To cosmic galaxies of dreams
As he found himself lost to a whispering voice
– The mortal inside the demon –
As in the prelude to fireworks of hate
The waterworks of love sprang from earth
As a terrorist of fortune
Became a mercenary of self-sacrifice
Walking to a lonely part
Of town and detonating his vest
As he lost forever his own martyrdom
But became an unsung hero
To his own invisible ghost.


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