On the Way to Snow

begging in snow 

Uoooof, snow is coming.
Where will it alight?                              On the roof, at the doorstep.
How much will fall?                              Snow in front of my feet.
What I am wearing?                             There is no jacket on me.
Why am I not cloaked?                        There is no father to buy for me.
Where is my mam going?                   To the street for begging.
I skip. I jump in the lightness.            I love snow.
But where will we land?                      To my room, to my room.

By Massoma

Photo: RAWA.org


  1. Thank you for this, Massoma. I imagine life through the speaker’s eyes. I imagine it as both wondrous and unstable, happy yet frightening. I want to know what happens next. Thank you for sharing!

  2. Elizabeth Titus says:

    Dear Massoma,

    What a vivid picture you paint of snow just about to arrive!

    I, too, would like to know more about this story.

  3. Dear Massoma:

    This is a lovely poem and a talks about true stories.
    I love snow and every time when it snows I celebrate it as a special time but the facts you mentioned in your poem, when I think of Afghan families living under the tents in the cold winter, families with small children who even doesn’t have a blanket to wear at night and having a warm jacket is a dream for an Afghan child. I become sad and mad, you know I look at the sky and ask God!
    God! please stop, Stop the snow!
    Thanks Massoma jan for your beautiful poem.

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