Afghan Women's Writing Project
Outside the café window
fall heavy drops of rain to hide
a thousand mysteries,
a thousand sorrowful stories.
Mom my slippers got holes
My feet are hurting
Be quiet my dear
We’ll be there soon
You had a German cheese with bread
It gave me ideas about Germany
After that day I always looked forward to your class
I stand tall and promise my new year resolution
I will end this lonely moment
I shiver but no one is there to give their coat
Under the cloudy, dark sky
stands a tall girl with long, dark hair.
Tears drop from her eyes as she closes them
We are orphaned children working to feed our families
Working with tiny, cold hands
Hands aching during the night
A father lost his befitting future, an heir
A sister lost her brother. She thought he was asleep.
A brother lost his friend. He thought he was angry at him.
Yes, these are the voices of those desperate and hopeful Afghan women
Who were tomboys in childhood, but when they grew up instead of a pen they got a baby in their hands
Let me use the dust on your feet instead of kohl on my eyes
Allow me to wash them with my tears and dry them with my hair
I am a woman who works hard for her parents and country,
a woman who always wants peace,
a woman who rocks the cradle with one hand
and shakes the world with the other.
History is changed by the small actions of ordinary people. —Zahra A.
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