Pari

Afghanistan. 🇦🇫

She wore it proudly in the shape of her eyes

In the accents of her tongue

the way she'd dip her words in the honey of her mother tongue.

No other language could feel as beautiful when she spoke.

In the way she let her hair run wild, free.

The rivers of her motherland still run in her veins

The scars of her people are etched into her palms

Lifelines of generations, imprinted in her hands.

She bathes in the red velvet silks, flowing around her when she moves.

The golden threads etching patterns of her history into her clothes.

History in her presence.

Her eyes still pierce like those of her ancestors.

Her roots keep her grounded.

Her past keeps her focused.

She is an Afghan woman,

From the land of lions.

They try to break her back, bring her to her knees.

She holds her head up high,

Defying the world's oppression

With a simple smile.

She will always be Afghan.

That is her resistance.

Poem and illustration by @rasmorawaj ©