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March 2012

The Water Fetcher

Clutching my bucket I glance out my clay door.
Heading down the path,
rubble lashes open my bare toes.
I gaze at
Women being clouted by soldiers, like rag dolls.
Cripples counting their coins, and craving money.
I gag
at the sight of maggots masking their faces.
I can’t attend school.
Mother once told me,
the land was beautiful,
filled with riches.
Then the Taliban, like a plague,
destroyed it.
They are lions hungry for pain and blood.
My mother’s burqa
strangles her like a python.
A mile to go.
Dead carcasses smother land mines.
My brother is one of these.
I approach the water tap.
The water,
like my life, is murky.
Although someday it will clear up.
When that time arrives
my mom can determine
for herself,
if she wants to reveal
her beautiful face.

(c) 2012 Ben S.
Fox Lane Middle School
Bedford, NY
Grade 7

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