A baby girl starts breathing
with her first
cry at birth.
A young girl starts learning slowly,
slowly with the hugs of her
A girl will be happy when her father buys her a doll
and her mother
wears a nice dress and combs her hair.
How can a girl be sad with a life like that?
Some days ago Farkhunda’s murder shocked people all over the world
hears the voice of
a poor girl —
a girl whose father
and brother-in-law take off her skin,
or the girl who the village Sheikh dishonors.
Lots of silence happens like this.
When I write these words I feel my head become so heavy
it can’t stand on my body.
My ears become deaf and I can’t hear anything.
In front of my eyes there is black and black and black
like my world
like my hometown
like this long night.
Photo by Jacksoncam
i feel this 110%
Sumaia, What a devastating poem you have written. The sharp turn from sweet images to the horrors women endure. And your last line that stabs: “Like this long night.” By sharing your words, you are helping to bring light from the long night.
what an effective poem