In the west of Afghanistan
rivers flow under large green mountains.
Early in the morning, geese and wild turkeys sing.
Parrots flutter among the blooming flowers—
roses, tulips, lilies, and sunflowers.
The sun shines and the clouds go round.
The weather is wonderful,
the sky blue and clear like a mirror.
Memories of my childhood in Ghazni
come back to me in Sanglakhat;
I see the mountains and rivers from a long time ago.
The fruit is delicious.
I once was caught with my cousins and siblings,
eating from the garden’s grove—
apricots, apples, grapes, peaches, cherries.
But the people are so hospitable.
They took us into their gardens, their homes,
and never yelled over the fruits we stole.
Sangklakhat is the nicest place I have been.
By Zohra M., age 16
Photo by Phil Borges.
Dear Zohra: Your poem is a blooming garden. Thank you for sharing all of this lushness with us! (And I’m glad that you weren’t punished for eating all of that deliciousness). Beautiful work. Stacy
I love the way this poem tells a story, Zohra!
Dear Zohra, Your words take me to Sanglakhat! Thank you for that…Kathy
I was so happy to see you have sunflowers as we do here in the U.S. They are such happy, hope-filled flowers and, from your poem, I can just see them shining under the “sky blue and clear.” Thank you for writing!!
My lovely and pleaser sister,
Your poem is making me miss you and how much fun we had there. I remember the cold night there, playing carts and, hide and seek with our cousins there. I loved it there too, so much. I miss you all and am looking forward to seeing you all over this coming summer.