On the treacherous road to Kandahar,
My heart bleeds for Afghanistan,
Though in its natural beauty,
It is a garden of death,
Where landmines laid awaits the unsuspecting,
Bringing death and suffering.
This land of history has never slept peacefully,
Where great armies had marched, shedding blood and misery,
Where conqueror became the conquered.
Lo, these drama of suffering never seems to end,
Where a child born in those times of difficulty,
is now a grown up man,
and the land is still bleeding,
as if the curse never want to leave,
sowing permanent torment and suffering.
As I travel the difficult road to Kandahar,
See me rocky desert and majestic mountains,
And rows and rows of silent graves, their old and new flags fluttered in the cool wind,
Empty villages, destroyed with no living souls,
Burned vehicles and broken bridges…bombed from the sky,
Guns and unsmiling faces…dirt covered children,
poorest of the poor,
In my journey to Kandahar,
I became witness to the cruelty of mankind at its fullest.
(In memory of MERCY Malaysia effort,2001) .
The blisters of the heart burnt in the fire of the breast, The house caught fire with its own flare. Some Afghans are responsible for this ruin. They are conniving with the biggest scoundrel of the world. Great poem. Wonderfully conceived. I liked it for its remarkable imagery and decent style. Rated it 10. TFS..... Kindly read and rate my poem 'A flight' on page 1.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
good poem on Mercy mission to Kandahar...