Kunduz-landscape

Kunduz, daughter of my motherland
They raped you
Those who think they know God
Who kill innocent people
And think because of this, they will go to paradise
By hurting us with their shameful behavior
By making us suffer this dishonor

It disturbs me…
This sound…
The sound of you crying
My motherland’s daughter
Even you were afraid to touch
Your lover’s hand…
But they…
Those who feel shame
To call them even animal
They tore your hymen
Blemished you…
Disturbed you…
They attacked your sacred place
To enjoy you…

But daughter, there were some
Who accused me, because I wrote
Because I advocated with my words

They called me bawdy and humiliating
And they rejected me
Because I wrote clearly
The words that should be written

My motherland’s daughter
I wrote you and your pains
Between weeping words
To keep your voice alive
In this poem

Daughter, I know it is late
But years from now
When somebody reads this poem
They will remember you
And they will curse those
Who harmed and shamed you

By Zahra H.

Photo by Dirk Haas/Afghanistan Matters