deepundergroundpoetry.com

Abina

I met Abina in 1994 during one of the war crime raging attacks
the Serbs inflicted on the Muslim ethnic groups  
they were cleansing from Yugoslavia  
through executing the men,  
raping the women,  
Driving anybody who could run, out.  
 
UN peacekeepers were used as pawns,  
even kidnapped by the Serbs,  
to leverage  the international community tostay out of theitr atrocities.
 
I met Abina when cleaning up the aftermath of  
a mortar shell attack on a medium rise apartment complex.    
Abina was the only survivor of her family of 7,  
hiding under a bed that collapsed on top of her,  
shrapnel riddling the walls of the small apartment.  
I dug her out, she was, maybe 12 at the time.    
Carried her on my side hip, that whole day of confusion.    
Shell shocked, an apathetic stare,  
I don't know if she knew  
no more family.
 
I had a somewhat administrative position
working with the French peacekeepers.
I decided to adopt Abina.    
I had the connections needed to get her out of Bosnia,
To my family in Toulouse directing a nurse rotating out to  
bring her to my Parents home
handing over the hastily arranged paperwork.
 
After the insanity of the Bosnian war,  
I was stationed  to .Chad, then later to Libya.  
On my Leave rotations, the first one who would run and greet me was Abina  
as I wearily walked up to my parent's long cobblestone drive,  
surrounded by apple trees
 
I watched Abina bud into a beautiful young woman.  
As she came of age, my attraction to her became undeniable
Uncontrollable.
Due to an age difference of almost 18 years  
I mightily tried to keep any feelings confidentrial
But mom knew her son very well.
 
Abina agreed to be intimate
So long as I preserved her virginity, physically    
 
My life was complicated.  
My travels home to Toulouse,  
a week here, another  there,  
were perhaps thirty days of a year.
 
I married  Elsa, in 2007,  
Elsa had first brought Abina home, back in 1994.    
She is older by 6 years, which is  
common and dignified, among the French.
 
My last time with Abina, happened in 2007
Elsa called me at my parents home,
 
Abina grew dark, emotionally.    
My newlywed status
perhaps led me to slip up with Abina.
"Oh, you ASS" she cried.
 
Returning to my life in the Peacekeeping forces with Elsa,
Mom called to inform me that  
 Abina left  with no warning,  
slipping away one night, never to return.  
 
In 2011,Elsa suffered injury while we were stationed in Libya,  
in an RPG attack.  She was treating soldiers.  
It was a set up.  After the ambulances arrived,  
Rebels ruthlessly attacked again.    
 
I decided to get out.
I was able to resign with a small pension  
at the young age of 47.  
 
I landed a small part time teaching position  
at a college in the states.  
Elsa recovered after 11 months of physical therapy and assisted living.
 
My thoughts once in a while, drifted to  Abina.  
As the power of the internet grew,  
I once tried to seek her out, to no avail.  
One year, I got a hit.  A marriage license,  
with her name, and age.   Then nothing.
 
Three months ago, I typed "Abina"
There she was ,  
some garrulous web site selling info
offered up an address.  Impossibly,
Abina was in the USA, a day or so drive away.
 
I couldn't do it.  I could not do it.    
I had my kids.   I had Elsa.    
 
Three days ago, when I received  a notice  
on my front door of a package from Abina's city,  
I was put into turmoil of emotions.  
 
the package arrived
a thick envelope.
Some 3 seconds after I signed for it,  
bringing it into the house,  
My son dashes out, takes the package,
 
" Oh hi dad, it's my sim card I ordered on Friday"
 
A little devastated, but relieved,  
  I saw how silly of me,
 Had worked myself up into a tizzy.
 
A small world. what a small world.
And Kids with too much Christmas spending money.    
Let me see how many more weeks before they  
start begging me  for cash again.  
 
I microwave some water hot,
Make tea to help me stare out of the window.
My son appears at the door to the kitchen.
"Dad, uh, this package is for you"
Written by rabbitquest
Published | Edited 21st Feb 2020
Author's Note
I have never been to a war zone , Never been to France. Sorry.
I looked up some dates to make somewhat historical accuracy.
However, some truths are told.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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