Kabul




Each morning, there was heartache and trees stripped by hunger. Dust that aged me by the minute.  Cold air singing back, frosting the skin.

I waited.
I waited.

At night, dogs barked unease. No one listened. My neighbors slept under the weight of the past. Blood running in the sewers, I lay sleepless, mouthing into a moon lit sky. 


Asking to belong.

 
She took every drop of me.  Never asking why. 


She knew the taste of fear, of longing, of loss,

letting me toss my stones into her river and swallowing them all whole.


She will always be my city.