Children Of Kandahar Poem by Jean-Francois Denis

September 2003,

On the mountains, the sky seemed on fire
Clouds of smoke and dust obscured the sunlight
Standing in front of a barbed wire
I was trying to determine the wrong and right.

My C8 in my right hand
The humidity and warm of the sun sweating my face
A child came from down the hill and grabbed my left hand
As we both stayed still in this ruined place.

I felt her tenderness
Dirty, ill-clothed but such a pretty little girl
But her beautiful eyes were blank, filled of painfulness
And her smile was sealed behind this devastated world.

Too many children I have seen dead
In a time way too short
This is what came in my head
When I saw her, so tired, she needed a caring support.

She closed her eyes for a moment
And when she reopened towards this ablaze sky
Her eyes were glassy, filled of hidden tears of a torment
Then she gently rested her head upon my thigh.

Obviously she was a new orphan of war
I may have been emotionless for days
But this little girl brought a tear to my heart
I could see my eyes in her gaze.

I tenderly took her in my arms
And with her delicate arms she hugged me
For her I was the one to protect her from harms
She finally felt herself away from the danger she used to be.

For four hours she followed me everywhere
Then she had to leave me with the civilians transfer
She had to go, but when she had to let go my hand
She was holding it stronger and stronger.

I dropped my weapon and lifted her with my hands up high
A sensation she was loving, I was her caring new friend
Then I perceived a little smile
The kind of smile I had not seen in a while.

I finally left her by an old man's side
Sat in the back of the truck, she looked at me and drew a heart with her finger
If something in my six-month journey would have made me cried
That would have been her and her eyes, the eyes of a child of Kandahar.