Small Migrant Bird

Afghan Voices
2 min readAug 19, 2021

by Reza

The sky was painted in shades of grey,
With the sun covered by clouds.
I felt humiliated when strangers stared at me,
A stranger in a strange land that was not my own.

Wherever I looked I saw no one I knew,
And a feeling of loneliness dragged me down.
I was like the wandering rain clouds in the sky,
Cursed, thrown out of my homeland by the devils of war.

I was a small swallow, alone in the world,
But I had wings and dreams of flying away to a better life.
I had never known discrimination before,
Nor had I been a wanderer in a strange new land.

My small hands became blistered from working so hard,
I found life so unkind, and could not imagine happiness,
Until one day, seemingly out of nowhere,
Two angels appeared at my side, as though in a miracle.

The inspiring angels taught me how to fly and grow,
And showed me the blue sky behind the clouds,
Where the sun was forever shining,
And I felt, for the first time in my life, pure happiness.

The angels had taken on the shapes of books and pens,
And with these tools I found knowledge,
And a land where life was bright and hopeful.
I was no longer that weak migrant swallow!

At last I had wings to fly in search of butterflies,
And a better life, filled with good fortune,
Where I could be alive and filled with purpose,
Free to follow my dreams.

I am now planting seeds in the fertile soil,
And watering those seeds so they will grow and bear fruit.
These seeds are my dreams of flight to a new life,
In a land where hard work can make dreams come true!



Afghan Voices

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