The old man walked; not in a feeble way
To pluck the plants that must be shipped today.
He hates the act that they’ll be sold
To greedy men who think they’re gold.
The stems so green to reach the sky
He’ll cut in half and half will die.
But oh the pain left to the flowers
Their petals crushed for many hours.
The old man’s tears stream down his face.
What G-d gives us they’ve laid to waste?
I say no ill for G-d is judge
Please let me live without a grudge.
Give me strength to use the calm
And voice to sing your every Psalm.
“The Fields of Kanadhar”
Afghanistan 2002
To pluck the plants that must be shipped today.
He hates the act that they’ll be sold
To greedy men who think they’re gold.
The stems so green to reach the sky
He’ll cut in half and half will die.
But oh the pain left to the flowers
Their petals crushed for many hours.
The old man’s tears stream down his face.
What G-d gives us they’ve laid to waste?
I say no ill for G-d is judge
Please let me live without a grudge.
Give me strength to use the calm
And voice to sing your every Psalm.
“The Fields of Kanadhar”
Afghanistan 2002
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