Colourful lives of Afghan women 
Perpetually hang in balance
Akin to enchanting roses protected by thorns,
Doomed to wilt slowly,
When you pluck it’s stem from a bush.
“Azyan run to the comfort of your home ! All women leave the workplace!” 
Our ship has weathered a storm for 20 years,
Conquering the ebbs of the tide,
Landing on it’s feet amidst the swirling wind,
Only to tumble like a house of cards,
And come crashing onto a massive hidden iceberg.
People are running to the safety of their home,
Papers & documents lay scattered in a fit of fear,
The air is full of confusion and horror,
For the inevitable has transpired,
For the mighty Taliban has awaken,
From its deep slumber of 2 decades.

Running towards my car in the parking lot,
In the dead of the night,
Frantically searching for the keys,
I witnessed the look of pure terror,
On my pale face in my reflection.
I was the eldest of the four in the house,
Seething with ambition,
Refusing to be a bonsai
“Don’t feed your sisters with your ideas and bring ill will to the house,”
My mother warned from day one.
I lost track of the speed of the car,
And looked flabbergasted as I finally arrived in front of our home.
Built with the blood, tears and sacrifices of our families,
The lone building stood tall,
Somehow refilling my courage and strength to face another day.
“ Azyan thank goodness you are here, did you see the news ? ”
My sister Armineh spoke in a whispered tremble,
As though the muffled speech,
Would silence the possibility of what happened today,
Of Taliban taking over Afghanistan.
“Yes, I saw it.”
I closed the door on my way in.
“Do you think it’s true ?”
Keys clattered in the bowl on the table.
“Must be. It’s all over the news isn’t it ? US has withdrawn it’s troops.”
Her eyes moist with tears seemed to speak aloud overshadowing her lips.
At that very moment,
I could no longer maintain the composure of an older sister,
Grabbing her close in my embrace,
Letting her lay her head on my shoulder,
We stood together.
To me were given pain,torture, fear,surrender,struggle & oppression
To myself I had said, is this enough ?
Now I ask myself again, is this enough ?
Is this silence & fear enough ?
A strong no reverberated through my body.
And no it is.
For now, and for years to come.

.    .    .