Landing in Kabul

We spend hours in the air, en route to Kabul.

I sleep until something like an impulse wakes me

and I know it’s time to fumble for my helmet,

put my flak vest on.

A loadie moves through the dark, hand over hand

towards the back of the plane. He steps carefully

between our feet, a flashlight in his teeth.

He carries a pistol and something like an extension cord.

We are all roused from sleep.

There’s a pause in the air, a slight downward shift

like we’re tilting off a shelf, then I hear

the mechanical windings of our descent

and the plane falls into nothing I know.

I know it’s not nothing, but still

I am shaken, weightless as we bank

left and right, up and down, avoiding

what lies below – mountains of the Hindu Kush

and shoulder-fired weapons.

My ears feel about to burst.

When we land it’s night and I’m surprised

to see the lights of Kabul, twinkling, climbing the side of a hill

like Grouse mountain in Vancouver.

After the ramp comes down and I regain my feet,

I half-expect the sirens I hear

to be Vancouver City Police

moving through traffic in Granville.