Nowshera Resolves

The river Kabul caressed me
through centuries of our intimacy;
our love was always young
like spring blooms in the new city.

I would sail on its back
or fish in the serenity of its heart
before the watershed–

drunken high on torrential rain,
almost insane,
the river rose to claim
the lives of my folk;
gobble my children,
plunder my crop.

But I shall not let the flood
moisten my eyes;
I’m the one
who divinity wanted to possess
with the rage of love.