In an Afghan Garden


June Rose

He didn’t know
as he shuffled between huts
eyes slitted with fatigue,
mind numbed by duty, dust
settling in his wake;
as he smelled something out of place;
stopped, sniffed, waited;
as a drift of rose scent curled
from the cooling garden, defiant,
out of place, tended by silent,
invisible Afghans. A simple thing, yet
affecting, beyond reason.

I didn’t know as
hose in hand in June half-light
mesmerised by droplets scudding
over pastel petals, I wondered
which flowers grew in Lashkar Gah…
if any. Roused by the scent
of water on warm, rose bloom
I wished to parcel it and despatch
a touch of June garden to his
gritty desert.

We didn’t recognise, until later
much later, the magic of
improbable, fragrant
serendipity.

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About SallyJ

I am a writer and a poet.
This entry was posted in Afghanistan, Family, free verse, garden, poet, poetry, Uncategorized, war, writer, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

9 Responses to In an Afghan Garden

  1. brian miller says:

    sally this is really well done…causing one to ponder and yet maintains its beauty

    • SallyJ says:

      Thank you Brian. The amazing thing to me was that the garden is there and the plants all thriving…who would imagine there were roses in Lashkar Gah?

  2. Sandra says:

    Absolutely beautiful!

  3. This poem is wonderful. To ponder on deserts rose, & reading as a grown ups lullaby.

  4. Claire says:

    The unexpected rose in a Laskakar Gah garden captures the imagination and once involved with the sentiment is compelled to read to the end. I love this poem and I am so glad I encountered this blog.

  5. wolfsrosebud says:

    Beautiful story you’ve woven. Beauty is found in the oddest places.

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