Like my hands
and my bag,
the station is empty,
and the train is leaving,
the station is empty,
and this is the last hour of the world,
and there, a girl
is sitting
on a chair
at the station.

I will never return,
the girl whispers;
her heart hopeless, hopeless—and heart
remembers the mother’s face
as they made her leave home
in the middle of night,
and heart remembers her father’s face
too, when he warned her.

I will never return,
she said with downcast eyes,
for the future is uncertain,
and the foreign military is leaving
and the Taliban is coming, again.
She holds her head between her hands
wondering, how it’s possible to return
after all, all that has happened—

She remembers how she paid the man.
she remembers tears falling.
she remembers how the man used her,
and how she had hoped to arrive
safely in Germany, safely…
and how, with tears falling, the girl said
I will never return

By Sumaia

Photo by Paolo Margari