What’s in, a name, sometimes, the whole ethos!
This Afghan hamlet, lives, every breath
A pain, beyond, its women’s pathos
Who mourn, their men, awaiting death!

Run opium, to Iran, or, join Taliban
Hang by, Sharia Law, or fall, fighting Jihad
There is, no reprieve, for this, cursed clan
From the fear, they believe in, faith’s façade!

When poppy blooms, in, Afghanistan
Opium spills out, of its, bleeding heart
Wake up, from graves, sons of Satan
To chase, their callings, worlds apart!

In the prisons, of their, men’s making
Seek salvation, smoldering, shadows
From an, existence, worth forsaking
In The Throes, Of, “Village Of Widows”!

© 2020 Vikas Chandra