The White Doves of Mazar
        for Nabilia

For crusts of bread
these sacred birds entrust
their bodies to your hands
despite the evidence of blood
in every street
and twenty-seven years of war.
Though nothing will change
for the Hazaras and Uzbeks,
the Pashtuns and Tajiks,
the Arabs, Russians, and Americans
try nonetheless to feel
the slight heartbeat
against your palms. Touch
the ruffed head
and trembling wings—
helpless now and beautiful—
as if they were the framed,
unfinished faces of the dead.

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Copyright © 2011 Timothy McBride All rights reserved
from The Manageable Cold
Triquarterly Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission