Winter Comes


Near our house, a ten-year-old boy sells maize
His face is innocent and kind
His eyes are sinless and curious
He is smart and spry



Tolo is the sound of freedom
The sound of peace
The sound of our nation
The Taliban can’t silence us

A Hate Letter to the Taliban


Can you think of nothing to do besides egging on atrocities?
Your generation is as unproductive as a fruitless tree.

Perfect Day


When girls and boys walk to school together
Participate in world competitions
Play in parks without fear

I Write


I write to you from my heart
Life is like an old lyric
I write modern poems

Crossing the Border


My fragile talent blocks my way
in being a good lover
but makes me “a good poet,” they say

Let Freedom Visit You


I count my breath
eat more than a successful woman.
What does success mean?
What if I’m only meant for a boring man?

The Station at 7 a.m.


There was a tree; a bird sitting in its shadow
I played with my ring
Twisting it left then right around
My engagement finger, waiting there

We Could Change


I repeat to myself
no, no, no…
This is not a well of darkness;
it is a colorful garden
with different trees
various fruits
and I have unique responsibilities

Grab the Pen and Write


Write about the men who wear a suit
and the face of a devil.