Kathie Isaac-Luke

Khyber Pass

One road led
from Lahore to Kabul
through the narrow gorge
cut through the mountains
of the Hindu Kush.
That was before
the proxy armies came,
before red poppies
blew across the valleys.

Then, caravans still traveled
south across that lunar landscape,
and every place we descended
we were treated, not like
the interlopers we secretly
knew ourselves to be,
but as visiting dignitaries.
Everywhere we alighted
we were presented
with a gift, a glass of tea,
a roasted ear of corn,
a branch of cotton.