EASTBEAT  - for peace, truth & non-violence

LAMENT FOR A TALIBAN LAD

 Rigor mortis of Brits' demented empire                                     on hard famished plains.                                                         Rain falling on the troubled streets of London                         on Afghan iron fields, blood!                                                      A Taliban lad, lead in his liver,                                                shot by a Surrey Para,                                                                his sister taken to a GI brothel,                                               the devil knows why we're there.                                                    Beneath an apricot tree their mother weeps,                      fallen, withered, apricots.                                                   When this winter's snows melt she will rise like the eagle    over savage mountains, genocide,                                        and the fragrant flowering pomegranate                                  'O the fatal loveliness of this land'*

Arthur Nortge - 'Dead Roots'