winter-in-afghanistan

Near our house, a ten-year-old boy sells maize
His face is innocent and kind
His eyes are sinless and curious 
He is smart and spry
His glance is smooth and sharp
Walking fast
Talking loud
His feet are bare and cracked
His attire tattered and old
His tiny body shaking of cold

Winter comes
Sky is full of clouds
Snow is coming 
The boy’s voice echoes
Shouting loud
My house is cold
Come buy and buy
My maize is soft and sweet
You won’t regret
Taste it and take home many
My maize is fresh and clean
Not dirty and dusty
I myself baked it
Your child will like it

The winter is freezing
Nothing is on the table
My room is chilly
Mother is waiting
Little sister is crying
She needs to feed
Morning becomes evening

The little boy is still shouting
Buy maize
It is full of vitamins
Rich of protein 
Make light my old tent
Passengers are crossing
No one cares
An old street cleaner limps to reach him
Gives him his daily wage

Give me all the maize
I have no one in this world
Go and hold your gold
My winter is always cold
The little boy stares at him
Croons under his lap
I am looking for money, I find honey
I wish to see God
I see him in a human’s body 

By Sitara

Photo by Michael Foley