Am I a distinguished individual with a destructive background?
I come from the richest of soils
The beauty of paradise within the limits of Afghanistan
From Kabul
From Kandahar
Afghanistan a country of diversity:
Men, women, children
Torn away by guns, fire, war, destruction
Victims of religious hypocrites who receive Divine immunity
through careless attacks and vengeance.
Criminals,
Who seek riches unsure of a background of defeat.
Who do you think you are?
A missionary,
A prophet of Allah?
No, for you are evil.
Who am I?
To bring you down,
crush your ambitions
and stir in the on-lookers.
Am I just a kid?
Creating my visual of a depicted lifestyle?
Grandparents who sought comfort in the harmony
of beautiful lyrics from a language of beauty?
Afghanistan,
The size of Texas is who I am.
Alexander the Great and Darius I
used Afghanistan as the gateway to India.
What must I do?
A female in America,
Constructed around a culture
that at times seems too dangerous and unworthy
Who am I?!
Just another lost Afghan soul
Searching for some evidence
to give me hope for true identity
What is an Afghan?!
A misrepresented race
Depicted as terrorists
Losers who do nothing but cause trouble.
What's up with that?
My idea of being an Afghan
altered by constant ridicule and talk
Rather than unite as brothers and sisters, we talk,
Back Bite,
Laugh,
No support.
An Afghan,
A woman who must be put under chains
ordered by a man that god created to be nice and loving.
NO- An Afghan Woman-
Strong
Courageous
Loving
Enduring.
Why do we classify each other?
As animals
As creations of our savior
By gender
By sex
And by creed
WE ARE AFGHANS
FROM AFGHANISTAN
Supporting and living out a dynasty
that consisted of ancestors and loved ones.
Who am I?
Why do you think you can judge me?
Is it because I lack the tongue
Is it because I talk differently
Is it because I am real and not talk- I'm not fake
Is it because I am optimistic and not naive.
Is it because I know who I am?
I know my parent's sacrifice
I know the effort and strength it took:
To cross the border
To walk the desert
To climb the mountains
Is it because my parents are foreigners
in America and are not seen as old,
useless,
but wise souls.
Our parents are Afghans,
They are the product of our once rich environment
They hold the true memories that tie us
That link us Afghans to our country and our past.
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