Always a Hand to Wipe Tears

I am from a land of bravery and beauty
A land surrounded by blue and silver mountains
A land where rivers searched and found their path in dignity

A land where poverty increases daily
Where death is cheaper than life
Where children die before they are born

I am from the blue sky of Kabul
The soft breeze of its air
The first dawn of its mornings that conveys a message of hope

I am from Afghan women who keep the name of Afghanistan alive
From parents who loved, cared, shared and worked hard for everything
From diligent and passionate siblings

From an American host family whose love and encouraging words
Always help me see the mirror of their wider vision
From an American grandfather whose support and example sustains me

I am from a social family for whom friendship is like a chain
Their love visible in their first and last breaths
I am from music, singing and dancing
From songs that carry me to other times
From loving nature and exploration and travel
From playing basketball with frozen hands on snowy days in Ghazi Stadium

I am from soft breezes in the shiny sunshine of the spring
From the silver paths of the moon in summer,
From walking on golden maple leaves in Autumn
From holding the fluffy snowflakes of the winter

I am from the second day of Eid, gathering with my relatives and friends
From the smell of my mom’s qabuli palaw and kofta chalaw
From the soft essence of rose petals
From voices of hope and wisdom
From a land of kind hearts, where there is always a hand to wipe my tears

By Meena Z