The father looks up to the sky or ceiling <br />(beyond the grey scale of the photograph) <br />with his son wrapped inside his cradling arms. <br />An orderly obscures the boy’s midsection, <br />with silence says he is beyond all healing. <br />Outside the frame in colour copter strafe <br />restokes the ire of Taliban gendarmes <br />who soothe the mother twisted in dejection. <br />We do not catch a whiff of her pained retching, <br />catch sight of their clenched fists or hear their words. <br />We see the father’s sorrow-stricken eyes <br />in what could almost be a Rembrandt etching, <br />his pitch black pupils focused heavenwards <br />to where God’s justice or His mercy lies.<br /><br />Leo Yankevich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/after-the-old-masters/
