What I do

      Like an eye that speaks with its tears

      I cry

      Like a woman in black over the tomb of her lover

      I am in mourning

      Like an immense love, undivided

      I feel alone

      Like the shadow of light over the desert

      I thirst

      Like the poet who cleanses his words

      I insist

      Like the women of Auschwitz

      Without hope

      Like the women of Kabul

       Behind walls

       Like children with families--upon the red snow

       I feel frustrated and humiliated for not being able to        do a thing

By Fahima Zahir

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