Back To Normal
They say all lives matter, but to the Taliban none of our lives mattered.
Screams and cries are all I can hear, as the Taliban took a life.
At 13, I should be playing tag with my friends or studying for my next test, but instead I’m in a place far away from home.
I miss the warm sun in Afghanistan,
I miss father,
I miss playing tag with my friends,
I miss studying the Quran in school,
and I miss going to the market with my sister, Kya.
The Taliban took everything away from me,
they tortured us,
and they never allowed us freedom.
I had to watch my own father get brutally slaughtered.
I remember the pool of blood that belonged to my father, surrounding me.
I remember my father’s last words, “Zahri, you’re going to be a man soon. Take care of your mother and sister.”
I felt like everything stopped.
I remember how my mother and Kya’s sobs shook the room.
I can not forget nor can I forgive.
I’m in America.
It’s not warm like Afghanistan.
Father isn’t by my side
but mother and Kya are.
But still, our family isn’t complete.
I remember fleeing.
It’s a scary feeling.
I remember father, mother, Kya, and I praying to Allah for guidance.
I remember hearing the screams of the people as shots were heard.
I remember hearing my mother and my sister cry as we ran in the desert, trying to avoid the shots from the Taliban.
I wish I was back in Afghanistan.
I wish the Taliban didn’t take everything I love.
Most of all, I wish things would just go back to normal.
They say all lives matter, but to the Taliban none of our lives mattered.
Screams and cries are all I can hear, as the Taliban took a life.
At 13, I should be playing tag with my friends or studying for my next test, but instead I’m in a place far away from home.
I miss the warm sun in Afghanistan,
I miss father,
I miss playing tag with my friends,
I miss studying the Quran in school,
and I miss going to the market with my sister, Kya.
The Taliban took everything away from me,
they tortured us,
and they never allowed us freedom.
I had to watch my own father get brutally slaughtered.
I remember the pool of blood that belonged to my father, surrounding me.
I remember my father’s last words, “Zahri, you’re going to be a man soon. Take care of your mother and sister.”
I felt like everything stopped.
I remember how my mother and Kya’s sobs shook the room.
I can not forget nor can I forgive.
I’m in America.
It’s not warm like Afghanistan.
Father isn’t by my side
but mother and Kya are.
But still, our family isn’t complete.
I remember fleeing.
It’s a scary feeling.
I remember father, mother, Kya, and I praying to Allah for guidance.
I remember hearing the screams of the people as shots were heard.
I remember hearing my mother and my sister cry as we ran in the desert, trying to avoid the shots from the Taliban.
I wish I was back in Afghanistan.
I wish the Taliban didn’t take everything I love.
Most of all, I wish things would just go back to normal.