Requiem for the Afghanistan National Institute of Music I listened in my hooch to Afghan ghazals On my first visit to the country, waiting For the Ministry of the Interior To return my passport—which had been confiscated At Immigration—so that I could fly Home, leaving the war zone for another day. That music took me to another world. The special meeting of the Embassy Book club, which drew spies, soldiers, diplomats, An archaeologist, a cook, and a nurse, Featured an expert who examined what Bin Laden’s death the week before might augur For the inchoate Global War on Terror. I could not sleep that night—or any other. What I remember is the cacophony: More than a dozen students practicing In one small studio, examining Their technique in the mirror—violinists And trumpeters, bass players and bassoonists, A flautist and a French horn player, all Performing with a kind of manic joy. How cold it was that winter night in Kabul When I joined others f...