Burn Pit Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Burn Pit

In Kabul and elsewhere
Openly, in whisper,
The people could be heard:
"Have you heard of Doha?
Soon will come Taliban,
And US joins Russia,
Go to hell and leave us! "

Some puzzled,
Some worried,
Some frowned.

But a son and father
Talked with no barrier.

"What will go, what remains? "
Questioned ageing expert.

His look and behaviour
Exposed his awareness
But polite, as they are,
Kept silent and waited.

"They came uninvited
As did those before them
To injure and murder,
Destroyed villages…"

Focused was the father
But son was frozen
Like snow on peaks of
Hindukush in summer…

Both living with culture
Chose the Kabul's market
To order, cool the mouths,
Father looked and smiled.

"Now you look like Snow
In the shade, on mountains,
Good, only if with Milk
That makes our ice-cream, "
Said man and dipped spoon
To give time to brood.


Serious, wise, caring,
Closed mouth for sucking.

The young heart, beat, throbbed,
Silhouette of eagle in his eyes,
Opened mouth and fell jaw,
Begging dad: "Then? Go on."

"No worry about them,
I fear the remains…"
He said and went silent.

Young found it complex,
Felt trapped, unable.

"Am aware, they buried
Their junks and arms fired,
And they are poisonous,
Surely will add to them! "

Son looked at father's eyes
Saw tears pour like falls,
Pictured a pitch-dark night!

"When forces are leaving
Will gather everything,
What is not worth taking
Then dig some cemeteries
Which they call ‘the burn pit, '
Start the killing flames to bury! "
Said father and stopped lecturing.

The young did his research
About what father said…

Read the list of those who
Serve in the US army:
"Endless are the soldiers
Harmed by the fire pits."

Almost all the involved
Are ignored as no-ones
By their own Pentagon,
"Terrorist? We? Afghans? "