In the Old Town of Kandahar - Karl W. Frederick

[Larry Robinson]

In the Old Town of Kandahar

In the old town of Kandahar
a woman always brought 
two baskets of figs to the market
one to sell, and one to give away
One for my children she said, beaming, and one for Allah

I did not know exactly what she meant
though felt she did, and so I trusted 

From the cut of my clothes
and soft leather of my shoes, she knew
the color of cash in my pocket
yet, we bargained good-naturedly at ease 
over the price of a fig 
from the basket for her children

She would take nothing, though, for those in Allah’s basket
where the sweetest were shared without hesitation
and the grateful eyes of a hungry beggar 
could become an angel’s blessing

When I ventured to sample from Allah’s basket
the woman looked into my eyes, said earnestly
You must eat slowly; that one you eat for us all

In a flash I understood what my reason could not –
Allah’s figs, the market, and the world
were all the same to her

Reaching into Allah’s basket
I was entering into sacred kinship
with everything

In the dusty market of old Kandahar 
ten thousand miles from my birth place
I was coming home


	- Karl W. Frederick

-------------- next part --------------
An HTML attachment was scrubbed...
URL: <http://lists.sonic.net/pipermail/poetrylovers/attachments/20210907/56dbb56f/attachment.htm>