Gul Mudin

a land filled with ripe anar (pomegranate)
La Mohammad kilei (village)
in western Kandahar
the local farmers mill about
young boys tend to their father’s fields
picking and pulling at weeds and fruit

Gul Mudin,
shoulders back, tends to his father’s fields
Kandahar is beautiful in January
the anar (pomegranate) are in season

proud father with earnest eyes
young boy with big dreams

when the americans approach Gul Mudin
young boy in a peran tomban (long shirt and pants)
green vest and curls tucked under a cap
he smiles, a welcoming embrace
melma (guests) have come to his home
and as he walk towards, arms open, small hands
the Americans. tell him. to stop.

young boy with big dreams,
confusion glimmers in his bright eyes
arms open, small hands, a welcoming embrace.
red now covers the field,
as though baskets of anar have fell.

Gul Mudin, arms open, small hands,
beautiful child, 
now lays face forward, 
on his father’s fields 
Kandahar fields.

young boy with big dreams
proud father with downturned eyes
the local farmers mill about
Kandahar is beautiful in January

Gul Mudin, 
young boy, big dreams,
no longer tends to his father’s fields.

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إِنَّا ِلِلَّٰهِ وَإِنَّا إِلَيْهِ رَاجِعُونَ

Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi rajiun.

Gul Mudin, a young boy, was killed by the US Military’s ‘Kill Team’ in his father’s fields in La Mohammad kiley, in western Kandahar, Afghanistan.

Gul Mudin. Remember his name. Say his name.

This is the first piece in a series where I will commemorate the lives of the Afghan people. In my pieces, I will speak more of them in life, rather than death. They have names, they once had reasons to laugh, now their names are yours to remember.

Read more on the US Military's Kill Team and their crimes against the innocent people of Afghanistan here.