In the arc of a late afternoon sunbeam
golden films of swirling dust alight
on slanted books - shelved for years –
patiently bursting with stories and wisdom
too often now the poor man's fix
in an insatiable, self-obsessed world
unbound and reinvented daily
too often through greed,
too soon through conflict –
not so, these books
their brown glued spines
and whiff of summer days
slumped by an open window,
the majesty of their fond attachment
to a past where crumbled paper-bags
hoarded liquorice string and rhubarb sours -
they accompanied us in long grass fields
under empty skies and fluffy clouds
during the thrill of birthday cakes and candles,
they were there for our innocent surrender
to playtime and make-believe
the tenderness of thought and action
of boys and girls -
before uniforms and chalk-dusted elbows
become beguiling teenage tendencies
which lead us not into temptation
but towards choice and decision-making
and the sharing of one's own literature
our stories - our wisdom –
our time to walk freely and to be.
Support the work of CARE International and others in Afghanistan - http://www.care.org - Photo Credit: Shinkai Karokhail, CARE
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