LIBERATION

Today I leave Afghanistan,
its grievous wounds, missiles,
shouted orders, charges,
deceits and betrayals, drones,
its impassive Buddhist monuments
with torn-off limbs and bullet-pocked faces,
poisonous and exhilarating poppies,
deserts and mined mountain places.

 

But not all bad and never dull.
Paradoxically I never felt imprisoned
by the captivity of war.
There's always a way
to soak with excitement
in another's flesh.

 

 

 

 

Usually we only show a third:
two-thirds of our selves are locked
in our personal Guantanamos
until war or crime or illness
changes the game and society's gates
are blasted open
and for one brief shining hour
we are truly free.