Home

Home is a valley at the top of the world

Where it has been forever, it's all that I know

Tucked up high in mountains, where the poppy fields grow

It was there that I grew up, where I laughed and I played

As a boy it was where I first saw violence displayed

At the time I honestly didn't know why

both the Russians and Arabs chose my home to fight

I suppose they thought here was a good place to die

so they came here with all of their hatred and might

With that struggle around me I grew to a man

Met a girl, and had children, two sons and a daughter

While the war waged for years, and we hid from the slaughter

Then that war had it's end, and soon the Taliban came

They claimed they were fighting for God, but they killed all the same

Before that I had sent all my children to school

and had hoped that they all would be smarter than I

though my girl's education had broken a rule

they say it went against God, though I couldn't say why

Several years passed that way, then the Russians returned

but this time they spoke English, which my first boy had learned

and despite all my fears, when they passed through our town

my son spoke up and helped them, and showed them around

For his help I'll admit, that he was paid well

though the stress put his mother and I both through hell

That's what life had become, as my family grew

My son said we were safe, but a part of him knew

that the men that he helped were all killers at war

and he said they were loyal, but I don't think he was sure

My son grew and had a few kids of his own

took a new job in Kabul, and moved there alone

while his wife and his sons lived with me back at home

Then just like it had almost thirty years past

this new war was over and it all happened fast

and my family was all labeled traitors to God

since my son spoke to men who had come from abroad

As it quickly unraveled I heard from my son

"bring the family to Kabul, we're now on the run!

I'm not sure where we're going, but we have to leave

and hope that somewhere we'll find a reprieve."

So we packed up enough food for two days

we gathered the family and abandoned our home

with no way of knowing just which way to roam

We arrived at an airport and saw all the planes

and the people and killers with ice in their veins

Then we pushed and we prodded, made our way through the crowd

and after much effort we located my son

who's reward was our seats out, for the work that he'd done

fear boarded along with us, though none said it aloud

For the rest of the week, time lost all track

and we kept moving forward, for we couldn't go back

The flights moved us westward, until one finally came

that brought us to a desert, that looked quite the same

as the one that we'd left in the high Hindu Kush

though this desert was home to an old man named Bush

we moved from the jet to a tent like a dome

and were given some water, and handed a flag

"Welcome to Texas," a girl said, taking my bag

I smiled and looked past her, taking in my new home