Fathom Mag

Lot’s wife flees Kabul.

A poem

Published on:
September 11, 2018
Read time:
1 min.
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The drone of planes is whining overhead.

The sand beneath me burns my naked toes.

The wind tugs at my burqa. My fear grows.

My husband, crying: “Flee, or we’ll be dead!”

We run. We have been running since the dawn.

My daughters—to be married!—run beside.

My husband, never slowing in his stride—

“Our home,” he says. “Our land will soon be gone.”

Our home. Is this the great, just wrath of God

For crimes against the stranger and the poor?

These bombs that bloom with sulfur in a roar—

Am I supposed to sit back and applaud

The deaths of friends and family, hopes and fears?

I’ll salt the ground I walk on with my tears.

Lisa Eldred
Lisa Eldred lives in Lansing, MI. She is a writer and editor at Covenant Eyes, where she recently published Hobbies and Habits. She also publishes poetry weekly on her own blog, WasabiJane.com.

Cover image by Mohamed Nohassi.

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