AFGAN WOMAN

Afghan Woman

by Latorial Faison

I have come to know you only by T.V.
and lately, when I see you, I weep for
fear and freedom, for you Afghan woman.

I stand in the shoes of femininity with
rights and choices, I have arrived by the
grace of God through ancestors. So I

shed tears for you, she who can finally,
and maybe once again, wear the beauty
and feel the mind's freedom. You've been

denied priceless and precious moments
you've been denied the enhancements
education can bring. But maybe now,

from the abyss of war you'll know victory
for yourselves, your children, your country
and live out dreams you've dreamed. We are

similar. You are woman. I am woman, and
we desire to be made whole, to live lives of
free will and chosen paths of our destinies.

I see you, with covered faces and bodies, just
moments after having sold your children that you
both might eat, after living in fear of a savagery.

I see your pain. I am called by your name, and
I cry because my face was also covered, my ankles
whipped, and my books had been taken away from me.

I live in fear and pray for peace each time T.V brings
you near. You are here, and I am there, and across
the miles I've come to share your pain Afghan woman.

I just wanted to share this poem that I found on a blog by Latorial Faison. An African American Poet and authoress.
For me why I love the poem so much is that underlying pin that unites us all...Our unity is the global suffering that women all over the world endure.
The burden of men's mistakes heavy on our backs. Pushing us down with the weight of their wrong doings. They make these mistakes and start the wars and we dutifully pick up the pieces and heal the wounds. But who heals our wounds who makes us whole again?
This is dedicated to all those beautiful strong women carrying those heavy burdens and responsibilities on their backs....we are all united and together we are strong. So sisters take a minute to feel the pain of womankind....be it in Afghanistan...Pakistan...Iraq...Palestine...Haiti...Sudan..Somalia or be it the woman who lives next door...or who works in the same office...or the woman with the sad eyes you see on your commuter train in the morning.
She is I and I is she.