A poem by Mohammad Zaki Zaki

Afghanistan is like a hell for us
With war
With guns and blood

With corruption
With fire and dust
With various terrible deeds

The harbor of Daesh is here
The ambush of Talib is here
The field of terrorist is here

The place of gangster is here
The ignition of fire is here
I pray for my country

For it to be calm
For it to have safety
For it to be perfected

For it to be reformed
For it to become free
For it to be independent

Islam is the best for us
If we follow the rule
Truly and surely

Compassionately and purely
We should cease abusing
Just being honest

Dear God
The children are not calm
They lose their siblings

They lose their parents
They lose their dreams
They lose their hopes

Please help us
We walk around
We see the bodies

The martyrs
The hands
The legs and heads

All scattered everywhere
No one can feel the pain
No awake conscience to understand

No one to take our hands
No one to hear our screams
No one to be honest

No aspirin to stop our pain
How can I get rid of it
When there’s no rescue

How can we expect peace
When no one talks about it
How can we be hopeful

When hope is nonsense
How can we stop poverty
When no one thinks about it

Just we have to tolerate
Just we must be patient
Just we need to watch the news

Just we witness the casualties
Just we have to be captivated
Like a kind bird in a cage

Like a prisoner in the prison
Like a jailer in a dark room
Like a slave in a tiny house

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