Doors

Doors

Everyone has an opinion.
One says, stop your job.
Another says, you should not have married
or you should not have children.

Star

Star

Sitara, you shine in Afghanistan’s sky,
make your small house bright.
I heard the news about your cutting—
how you lost your ears, nose and lips.

Where Am I?

Where Am I?

I am looking to find myself in all the crowded streets.
Where am I?
Am I in the street of love, of education?