I am a passenger in this grief world.
I am a human who has never had any rights.
I have never had the right of talking, choosing,
or even writing
on a piece of crushed paper.
They force me to marry.
To not go to school.
To not even come out from my house.
They keep me from opening my lips and saying the truth.
I am trying to make them aware
of my rights
of my power
of my personality, my dreams, and my hopes of for my future.
I am a human
but no one has looked at me as a human being.
I am a human
who has all pains in the core of my heart.
Every time I talk about my pain, I look smaller.
People laugh and do not respect my ideas
They think I am a crazy or what I am saying is a lie.
My people, my friends,
even my relatives are against me.
I am not suffering this pain alone, all women of my country are suffering.
My heart is beating to tell my pain.
The pain of telling it for 30 years has become a dream.
Where I live, talking about pain is a crime.
BUT!
I am tired of all the darkness.
My ears are full of the drum of bomb blasts
which I can hear always.
If I am in the way, if I am home.
Now it becomes a habit of my ears.
My hands are full of bullets.
The eyes of my country are tired of crying.
Eyes of my country are tired of being witness to all these damages.
The tears of my country are now blood.
My land is now sick.
So, I am sick.
I cannot do anything without suffering and crying.
I am tired of crying on and on.
Even my tears don’t console me.
My shoulders are not able to carry the heavy weights of a life full of sadness.
I miss the music of peace
In a pleasant atmosphere where I can
Live happily with Afghan children
In a place where there is no sound of bombs.
No tears in the eyes.
No sad face.
And no guns to fight with each other with the children of my country.
I miss the pen, blackboard, and school.
My teachers and all of my classmates.
I miss the environment of my school.
So that we can we study
and learn this:
P+E+A+C+E
By Zahra A.
Photo: Mohammed Naser / AP
Zahra,
This is a powerful poem, and I am so glad that it was posted here. That opening line–”I am a passenger in this grief world.”– will stick with me.
such a sad and true poem. you express heavy, dark truths, and it is important to send this message into the world and to make people aware of the reality of what life is like for so many women in Afghanistan.
Dear Zahra: There is so much in this poem that will stay with me. But I keep thinking about the pen, the blackboard, the school. I am wishing you reams and reams of fresh paper (not crushed!) to write all that you need and want to write. I am wishing you safe spaces to say what it is you need to say. Proud of you over here, and wishing you the best.
Zahra, thank you for this poem. Your images are powerful, and your strength is beautiful. The line “Every time I talk about my pain, I grow smaller” really spoke to me. Please keep writing, telling your story, and telling the stories of those around you.
Very poignant, very powerful, Zara. It is people like you who will bring change with each drop, each word that falls from your pen; it IS mightier than the sword. It may take time, but PEACE will come. Keep believing.
Dear Sister:
The peace is in my heart now, reading your nice poem. I am hopefull and cant kill the hope in my heart, although all my desires and wishes are killed but no not hope I protect it in my heart till I am alive.
I am so much proud of you and your writing, the way of expressing your poem shows how much you are strong and how much Afghan sisters are strong. I believe if I stand up if you stand up we all stand up and finaly we get what we want, peace+ freedom+feeling our woman hood.
All the best on your writings.
Another beautiful piece. “I miss the music of peace” is a profound line that crosses cultures. You remind us to be grateful for the voice we have, and to use it whenever and however we can. You are inspirational.
Dear Zahra,
We are listening and will continue to listen as you write. Because of your strength your poetry has become the “music of peace”. Thank you for sharing it.
Zahra, your voice is the voice of your people, the voice of your country and the voice of a woman. You could not have better expressed all this in a single poem. Your courage and your strength are a teaching for all those women who live in denial — from Afghanistan to western countries.
We are all passengers in this world, but few, like you, can leave a mark for the generations to come. We are all Zahra, somehow.
Dearest Zahra, I sit here tonight relatively safe from all that is your daily reality. As I read your brave words they reached in and grabbed my heart; warmed me, chilled me, & frightened me… But, they made me angry, too. I feel such helplessness, yet there you are — forbidden to write, to read, to think, but you have the strength & courage to forge on against all odds. You are a heroic angel, as the positive beauty of your spirit is sparklingly reflected around the world because of your words.
‘Every time I talk about my pain, I look smaller.’ — You have so much courage. You could never be small. Your voice has the power to create a world inside you’re world. I can only visit, but I am there –inside it — when you speak it.
‘My hands are full of bullets.’–your hands are bullets, brave one. You are not invisible. Our hearts see you. Please continue to dip your fingers in the wound–they translate the blood that runs through us all.
As they say ‘Be peace to bring peace.’ Stay strong!
Dear Zahra,
Yours is a voice of resilience. You speak out against a world that tries to pin you down and make you powerless. But your words are your source of power and strength. As long as you have your words and a place to put them (even if the paper is crushed or crinkled), the world will listen to what you have to say. Your pencil is an instrument of peace as it wages war against those in your world who disrespect you and fear the power of your words.
I really like you poem. Keep Writing. Thank you for sharing
You have a powerful voice, thanks God, that gives you even more responsibility to make the voice of other women heard. Keep writing Sister
You have a voice, Zahra and it is a magnificent voice. I see that no one will silence you.