A poem by Anonymous

A wounded mother is in chains
She gave birth to babies
Who never became what she wished for
Some suck her milk, some sold her milk

Piece by piece she was tortured and sold
The children were killed by other children
The victims recite the verse of martyrdom
The hunters chant the slogan of victory

One seemed majestic
And one a holy man
One pushed some to kill
One washed the brains of some to kill

The gun was a toy given to children
The gun was the key to the problem
Some left the mother
Some loved her

Many had gone, many waited to see what would be wrong
Many were killed in her hug
Many have robbed her hug
Many stole her gold, her silver, her rings and earrings

She was crying on her own
Her heart was torn, her world was ruined
Strangers started plagues on her
She saw the ashes around her

Isn’t it enough?
Let’s sing the song of wishes
Let’s stop quitting her
Let’s put an end to migration
Let’s keep living here
With her

Writing by Afghan writers. Editor/Publisher: Nancy Antle; Editor: Pamela Hart

Writing by Afghan writers. Editor/Publisher: Nancy Antle; Editor: Pamela Hart