ManicDDaily

To U.S. Infantryman, Afghanistan

Dear one,
dear one.
I don’t know why
they put you on a road
that hides mines. You
who are not truly
theirs. In a truck rumbling,
heavy-wheeled.

If I were a bird who could circle, I would swoop down
and snatch you up–you would
cry out at first, so prised– your buddies might
lift arms–but my wings would beat
implacably, beak flashing, and soon the sky
would hold us in its light clasp, in our
blue laughter, you who have
such an easy laugh.

But I am not a bird
and you are on that road
and I can only try to impress it
with the will of the many who love you,
to roll out upon it
an invincible mind tar, a safe-sealing asphalt.

But how does one impress one’s will upon
a road?

Pray for a safe
away, reason that your passage will somehow make
a space for trucks of books
next time, busloads
of school girls.

I try to hear
their chatter, the wisped swish of braids
as backs shift soft planes
between angles of shade and brilliance, the curved inroads of
their smiles, lips’ foray into mound cheek.

They would smile at you
if they could, you whose sweet smile
seems to say to each it meets, I’m yours, yours
for a short while.

***************************************
A bit of a break from thinking of India today (in A/C of Ahmedabad hotel room morning) and thinking of the recent deaths of U.S. servicemen and State Department personnel in Afghanistan, and the ongoing presence of American troops there, including a dear family member. Keep these guys and girls in your hearts and minds–they are still at risk, perhaps even more so with the drawdown. Let them get home soon.

I will try to post for dVerse Poets Open Link Night, though I am a bit confused abut timing. It is Tuesday noon here already. k.