Afghan Women's Writing Project
This story began from me
Me as a woman
Me as a daughter
Me as a mother
I am an Afghan woman
I lost my pen in blood.
I lost my knowledge in ignorance.
I lost my way in a street filled with dead bodies.
Now I know how you fought for education,
how you struggled to carry love and peace
in a world dedicated to hatred and warfare.
When you feel lost you will find me in the sky
An orange moon.
My people, my Afghan people
The world is watching
The beautiful universe surrounding us
unable to express our feelings
we heard our heart’s voices
There are people to look at you,
But who has eyes to see into your heart.
Our colors and scents will
turn our land beautiful.
Looking from my room’s window.
I see how my life is passing
But my days and nights the same
My mother was the principal of a girl’s high school. She filled our house with books and made it beautiful by teaching my two brothers, two sisters, and me.
History is changed by the small actions of ordinary people. —Zahra A.
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