I lost my pen in blood.
I lost my knowledge in ignorance.
I lost my way in a street filled with dead bodies.
Peace is a dream in my land.
Dust from bomb blasts cover me.
Body parts surround me.
I turn my face to the sky when it rains.
Peace is a dream in my land.
How long can we wait for peace?
How long can we live in fear of living?
How many family members can we lose?
Peace is a dream in my land.
Religion is supposed to save people’s lives.
Religion is killing people.
Hands rise in prayer to save this land from evil.
Peace is a dream in my land.
People hate each other.
People kill each other.
Life is is more worthless than anything.
Peace is a dream in my land.
My beautiful land looks like a graveyard.
The houses are in ruins.
Dust has taken over the green.
Peace is a dream in my land.
Will all this end?
Will we ever live without war?
There is ongoing war in my land.
Peace is a dream in my land.
By Shogofa
Photo: Massoud Hossaini/Agence France-Presse
This poem breaks my heart every time I read it. You have beautifully given voice to what so many Afghans wonder “When will there be peace?” Thank you for writing it. I pray that you will have peace in Afghanistan one day soon.
So very beautiful, so painful and devastating… I especially treasure this stanza:
“My beautiful land looks like a graveyard.
The houses are in ruins.
Dust has taken over the green.
Peace is a dream in my land.”
Please keep up the excellent work.
Stacy