The tale of the Afghan woman is one of merit,
Of dominance and disruption to a soul of spirit,
A misplaced reality and a buried truth,
A masked victory, seldom dug by the sleuth.

What the burqa hides are actions that speak
What the burqa hides are minds seen bleak.
What the burqa hides are hearts that desire
What the burqa hides are stories that inspire.

It began in a village, they all called Eden,
As busy as the bee, as bright as the sun.
When each morning brought something new,
As fresh as grass, as the dawn-break dew.

What the burqa hides are voices unheard,
What the burqa hides are potentials seen absurd.
What the burqa hides are struggles to commit
What the burqa hides are longings to permit.

In the gathering of friends and a loved one
Moving quickly, getting the chores done,
In fields so vast, sweet scented and green
With the blossoming of fruits so rare and unseen.

What the burqa hides are hearts shattered,
What the burqa hides are beauties flattered.
What the burqa hides are eyes that plead
What the burqa hides are hearts that bleed.

The sweet bliss of youth had entered our lives
The beauty of the village, cluttered like hives.
The clearness of the blue skies reflected our hearts,
Like the target of a player’s board, they were pierced with darts.

What the burqa hides are hands with magic,
What the burqa hides are minds with logic
What the burqa hides are voices with spells
What the burqa hides are feet with bells.

The bloodshed of war becoming second nature
The weaponry being used, a new feature.
Now black, were laid the gardens so ever green,
Now dead, were laid the loved ones so frequently seen.

What the burqa hides are eyes with tears,
What the burqa hides, are hearts with fears,
What the burqa hides are hopes and dreams,
What the burqa hides are silent screams.

A father, a brother or husband is her pride they say,
No longer a backbone, if they are reduced to lay,
At the head of a cold stone, made of fresh clay
The thought caused paralysis, but reality hit that day.

What the burqa hides are hearts widened
What the burqa hides are lives once brightened.
What the burqa hides are wild imaginations
What the burqa hides are unique creations.

At the hands of the enemy, we suffered bitterly
Like fierce ocean tides, yet we resisted emotionally.
Torture, immorality, stripped of our homes and respect,
The target of blame, they were quick to suspect.

What the burqa hides are tears with stories
What the burqa hides are faces with worries.
What the burqa hides are eyes so darkened
What the burqa hides are bodies so weakened.

With hardened knots, with all our might,
We left Eden knowing it was its last sight.
To a new land we were destined to go,
To a new people, we were obliged to know.

What the burqa hides are questions unanswered
What the burqa hides are souls forever wounded
What the burqa hides are tales mistaken frequently
What the burqa hides is deceit you multiply boldly.

No belongings, no possessions, with no valuables we went
Leaving behind the soil, the love and the unique scent
To a flock ambitious and hungry for its atypical riches
Aware that forever it would serve as one of the putrid glitches.

What the burqa hides are tales beyond your sense
What the burqa hides are tales grave and for you dense.
What the burqa hides are tales you underestimate
What the burqa hides are tales that await their sweet fate.

Today, we live in a dispersed, lonely state
Aware its roots lie in the destruction of hate.
We live longing to tell this tale, to spread the word
And break the chains, to attain the freedom of every bird.

©MR 2010

Shazadgey: You're so sweet. I am far from being smart, let alone being a genius. But if anything, your words put a smile on my face. Thank you.

Dasey kna ........ta ao admin sa lekay na zalimano mung khu

taso puray dada yu .......dar kha...

da Genious Khor da tata sa pata........zan darta yadwam

PuktanaFrinces

YouTube - channelsfather's Channel (http://www.youtube.com/user/channelsfather#p/u/5/inS5VX23wIM)

PUKHTANA wagora pa Burqay ka.......hahaha

Thank you for taking out the time to read it. It's a long one, I know. Its length makes me think about whether it still qualifies for a 'poem' or not (considering the Pakhto definition of sher). I initially wrote it for an Afghan NGO Fundraiser Conference and one of the speakers requested I write something for them. For my own reasons, I chose to write a poem. The speech didn't go ahead though, as we were quick to find out that the NGO was run by Christian missionaries. At the end of it, I managed to write another poem. All the merrier for me.

Burqa is a symbol of the Medevil times.

Modest dressing is not what you call a Burqa.

Burqa represents a mans insecurity towards his female counterparts.

Kind Regards

The poem isn't arguing modesty or the definitions of Burqa ...

... you guys just don't read do you?

I share them as I write them. I appreciate they are read and understood. This poem is one any Afghan, male or female, should be able to relate to. If not our immediate families and relatives, then at least a generation before ours, or people around us who live to tell their tales of pain, anguish, isolation and loss.

I like to think that they can make a super hit blockbuster anyday :angel1:

Great writing Mazhala.....its an honour for me to know and be around talented people like you any many more on PF....

you have so well described the plight of pashtun women..... i wish people really understand their situation.......

Timbaktu: We live in foreign lands, but just as this poem aims to convey, our hearts are attached to the motherland. I've overused this many a time now, but poetry stems from pain and experience. If not my own, certainly the experiences and tales of the immediate people around me have given rise to the story in this poem. Our very own experience as a family should suffice to write volumes, but, as a writer, who is expected to reach the masses, things should be kept short, succint, yet powerful. There was a lot more I wanted to add to this, but it felt as if it overflowed with the central theme (pain, isolation and loss - as a result of war and migration), that it almost sounded repetitive. The main thing should have been showing her successes as an independent woman who has come so far and sought revenge through intellectual powers passed on by her to others, first and foremost, her son. I might give that another attempt - InshaAllah.

Burqa is a symbol of the Medevil times.

Modest dressing is not what you call a Burqa.

Burqa represents a mans insecurity towards his female counterparts.

Kind Regards


so the more revealing the clothes the more secure the male is? how secure are you?