Don’t hit me anymore—I am your mother.
Untie the knot of violence;
leave the ancient custom behind.
Don’t hit me anymore—I am your sister.
My heart is soft, kind, like a kingdom.
Don’t hit me anymore—I am your wife.
Do not drag me in the soil.
Why do you blind me, spite me?
Can’t you see my wisdom?
Thirty years of war have hurt us.
You blame me.
Don’t hit me anymore—I am your daughter.
Can’t you, with your red eyes and angry face,
see my pain?
Don’t hit me anymore—I am your life partner.
Blind man, you can’t see anything.
Don’t hit me anymore—I am your mirror,
your success, your movement forward.
All your achievements are related to me.
When you cry, I wipe your tears.
When you fall, I lift you up.
Simple Man, you are a bird.
Your small eyes cannot see my strengths.
You would fly far away, not knowing
I am your wings.
Fighter man, don’t hit me anymore,
I am your crown,
the secret to your success.
This is your violence, Talib,
but you cannot take the right to my rights
because I am a woman—
the Mother of a Nation.
Photo: Nick Rain
via Afghan Women’s Writing Project | Untitled.