Joy and Grief in Rain

Friday evening,
just before a good weekend with family,
it is raining and I am standing outside alone,
enjoying the rain. Inside, the phone
rings, I see my mom answering.
She talks on the phone, but there are tears
in her eyes. I run to her, to know what is happening.
She puts the phone back, silently,
and I say, Mom, Mom, tell me.

The suicide attack . . .
killed my two cousins in Kabul city . . .
who were newly married the other month . . .

We both started crying.
We could not do anything else, except cry for them—
It was strange for me,
that one minute before I was enjoying the rain,
but now I was crying.

I do not know when the suicide attacks
will stop.
Every day, every day there is a bombing
somewhere, and every day people are killed.
When I leave home at morning for my office,
I ask myself, Will I come back alive
to my home this evening?
Or not?
Can anyone answer?

By Yalda


Comments

  1. Charlotte says:

    Yaida,

    Please know that there are places in the world where you do not have the daily bombings. Have hope that this monster practice of taking lives through such violence will stop and that you will be able to live your life peacefully. Know that your voice has been heard.

  2. Thank you for this wrenching piece. As your tears mix with the rain, your smile will some day glow in the sunshine. Yes, it will end. And you are helping by telling your story.

  3. Yalda, I am so sorry for your loss and for the fear that you must live with every day. I hope it helps a little bit to write about it and share it with the world. We are praying for you and your country.

  4. Teresa McAleenan says:

    Your story is so heart-wrenching and you live with the terrible unknown that you write in the last lines. I thank you for sharing and admire your courage and creativity that channels these into a poem. I hope that knowing that our prayers and hearts are with you in this anguish and
    that sharing it makes it a little easier to bear.

  5. Naomi Benaron says:

    Yalda,
    This piece is like listening to the rain. Just as in the voice of the rain, the joy and sadness in your words mix and spread out over the earth. Thank you so much for your courageous writing. May joy win out in the end. Joy and peace.

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