Editor’s note: This poem is written by a journalist who works tirelessly to help the women in her country, writing about the plight of others, and here she is in a human moment — tired.
Today I write my feelings—
I’m tired, defeated, want to rest.
But how? When I look around me,
I see the women in my country struggle.
It makes me tired, this being a woman,
born in Afghanistan.
I work, feel discouraged by those around me.
I do nothing, feel discouraged,
don’t know what to do today.
I challenge this life,
this life of being a woman.
Since I was young, I did this,
sometimes succeeded, sometimes was broken.
The important part of me
wants to be a help for the women of my country.
I understand our women.
I too am a woman here,
who suffers from her gender.
I try. I try hard to help them.
When I want to work, there is no one
to hold my hand.
The women, the women
in the remote parts of our land
expect and hope I can support them,
but where is my strength, the help I need
to help me help others?
I cannot do it alone, and this is why
I’m tired, and this is why
I cannot do anything today
for my country’s women.
Photo: Adam Ferguson / New York Times