Kites Enjoyed by All

Here in Kabul, few own kites.
Just the favoured, rich, Taliban
Serving. In almost a blind
Often cruel obedience.
To the Prophet, the Book, the Troubles.
But all the children enjoy
The kites, one
Way or another.
There are clacking battles.
Stratagems, way up high.
Swooping with fastest velocity
Diving as if to break the earth
With daring and precision.
Sometimes a string will break
We children now have our best delight.
Chasing, racing by observation
To its grounding spot.
Or premonition, just leads
At high speeds.
First Finder must return the “colourful bird”
To its owner. There is a decision, a directive
Whether to lend said kite
For a term, or gift outright.
Each child longs for such great Honour.
Poor districts of the City
Observe, cheer with uncommon Joy.
Symbols of grace and duty.
Above them, casting magical shadow.
Allah be praised.