Poetry from Afghanistan: On Patria

On Patria

I am a land full of sorrow, yet patient — weary, yet still hopeful.

I am a land of beauty, but torn apart by war. Once, the people described me as brave, but for years I have lost my children in my own embrace — children born into this world to live, but shattered and gone before they ever reach the age of death.

My children are my pride and power, but sometimes they are forced to grow up in isolation, far away from me. They struggle, and die without ever returning to the safety of my arms.

But truly, my daughters suffer the most. Their wings are heavy, and it is as if the very breath of flight has been taken from them.

I dream of a day when I can hold my children in peace,

When my daughters fly fearlessly to the ends of the sky with smiling faces,

When my sons dance with joy and clap for their sisters’ freedom to soar.

I do not want to see sorrow in the eyes of any of my children.

Look! Though I am tired, I still place my hope in you.

I believe that one day, with your wings of iron, you will pass through the borders of hardship and pain, and discover a land of endless vastness and breathtaking beauty —

a land that is your true self.

And when that day comes, embrace that land — yes, embrace yourself — and thank her for being strong.

Or perhaps, gently comfort her, like a child who has long been separated from its mother and is simply exhausted.

My precious daughter,

Know that this weariness — yours and mine — was never a choice, but a burden forced upon us.

Learn to live joyfully, even when the wind and gunpowder choke the air.

And always remember: offer kindness to everyone you meet —

for they, too, may be a child once cast out from the arms of their motherland.

- *Hira, age 28, Afghanistan

Note: *Not her real name. All names have been changed to protect identities.