For Malala on UN International Day of the Girl


A new morn has come to Kabul
Thru the oily curtain a pink light
The blue beret had the wrong Abdul
Momma seems to be getting all right

Breakfast brought back my brother Abdul
And foreign money for Father
Dare I think of our sister Fereshteh
Would His angels’ even bother

They say the school is again open
It’s now off the main traveled path
That’s good because I can’t be thinking
Of martyrs when trying to do all that math

Uncle has returned with our sister!
He doesn’t want his brother’s blue money
Begging off to staying for dinner
But allowed he’d like to borrow some honey

Do little girl tears ever reach Heaven
The Sun starts its fall toward evening
Will it come tomorrow when I make eleven

Better stars again rise over Kabul
Though life lessons do sting smartly
I pray thanks for Fereshteh and Abdul
Of course you’re invited to my party


About Kitt

Sometimes a rhyme or couplet wanders across my consciousness. So, I share it. Other times I'm a hospice social worker; others, a Dad; others, southerner, New Orleanian, cajun enthusiast, voter, and on better days, a not-too-awful-poet/rhymster. Welcome to my page. Enjoy.

Posted on October 11, 2012, in Poem. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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