Poem To A Taliban Daughter Poem by David McLansky

Oh please, do not kill this woman-child
Although she walks your rocky mile;
Although she's trained to wear a gun,
Do not shoot her as she runs;
She's only here to escort our dead,
Blasted soldiers, to gather legs,
To stitch our men in body bags,
Blast her not with Burka rags.
She's here to bring the bodies back,
To stuff them in her zippered sack;
The fallen boys caked in the sun,
The opened mouth, so strangely young;
And as she gathers, she'll retreat;
She's not here to rule your dusty street,
Oh silent Burka let's be frank,
You move in crowds a secret tank
With explosive wrapped around your chest,
You hate these invaders from the West,
And while she may be infidel,
She has a mission to fulfill:
To gather up the flesh and bones,
And with dignity to bare them home;
She rids your land of their pollution,
To kill her iis the wrong solution;
She bares the proof that war is wrong,
Let her return, her body strong,
Not blinded missing arm and leg,
You're someone's daughter, of thee I. beg.