The Lost City Poem by Sadiqullah Khan

This city held the omen of ages,
The roofs had been erased, as if,
With the skill of scalpel, and beneath.
The bleeding wounds and throbbing life.
To survive.
From the battlefield, and as if carrying,
Life to the nearest shadows to breath.
And memories of the loved ones.
The dead and the wounded.
I had once heard the warrior's woes,
And not suffice whence I saw what had
been lost.
This sunset and the fire in a corner in ruins.
It would not gain its glory, we know that.
What if, those who portend hope,
Many times the fate of such cities,
Hangs on fragile strings.
In the hands of those we name not.

On the city of Herat, Afghanistan, after seeing a photograph of the ruined city by Steve McCurry.

Sadiqullah Khan
Peshawar