In a way, there is much we share:
A common homeland
A common country of service
Emotional wounds that words
cannot do justice
A bond with brethren
deeper than the wounds
Which makes returning stateside
the most difficult part the journey
My uniform, however, was a blue burqa
The same worn by millions of Afghan women
Unmarked by any decoration
Or any indication of the length of my stay.
My length of stay is best observed
when I speak in local languages
And live in community with local people
My brethren,
with whom I was joined by suffering,
mutual dependence,
and common purpose
Were those whom you eyed with suspicion
Wondering if they were ally or enemy
Never fully trusted
But if I am honest, I look at you the same way
At you and your brethren
Armed with guns, tanks, and every visible indication of power
So separate from the land and life in the very place you are dwelling
Not understanding the people who call this home
And I do not trust you, or your intentions
But in spite of mutual suspicion
Mutual distrust
I cannot help but think
That we are similar in so many ways
And if I had the chance to know you
As I know my Afghan brethren
I might be honored to count you too
Among my family
PrOsETRY Reflections 