The trees outside my balcony,
Remind me of the trees of Afghanistan
They are big green clouds that land on the ground to lift our spirits
and take them for a journey of joy.
Remember how children clamor to climb trees?
Like passengers climb into planes and look from childhood-sized windows?
The trees on the brown airports of dirt laugh with each other
They wrap branches like we wrap arms
Look look
the problem at the Kabul airport is bigger than you say
Each person leaving
Is carrying all of Afghanistan with them
Who would leave a drop of what they love behind?
People stash countries too for the winters of diaspora
So send a plane the size of Afghanistan
Or send the rest of the countries of the planet
to wrap this wounded place with warmth and healing
Wrap them like a pastel-colored-yarn afghan.