A migratory widow bird from Afghanistan

Her long black tail feathers and the somber color of its plumage
Gave me an impression of widowhood,
I try to listen her plea and it's sorrowful
The bird speak the language of human
But nobody understands.
'My innocent husband died in the poppy fields while searching food
A bomb dropped from the sky and I escaped and flew here,
Oh! It's a winter I forgot and I left my winter clothing at my husband's roost,
Don't know whether I could be friendly with the birds here? '

*Birds can be unite wherever they fly.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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