And so, I write
Girl who writes, and writes,
Here is a letter, to my sisters across the world,
I may not have experienced the feeling of being born into war.
I may not have seen my country snatched out of your hands by a people.
I may not know what it is like when your country remains in the throes of war year after year.
I may not have known how it feels to be forced to give up education because I am a girl.
I may not have any idea how it must feel to be forcibly veiled in a canvas prison.
I may have no idea of how it feels to see your society crumble,
I may have no clue.
I may not.
I care, and I care a lot.
Because your plight to me,
Is not a sight to see, nor a life to lead;
Because your life, times and situation to me,
Is the worst of the worst situations that can ever be.
I may not know how it feels to be there, but I know enough because I care.
It may be of no use, that I write, write, write and write,
All about you, your life, your times and your plight,
It may be futile that I speak, speak and speak,
While out there, I would only be meek.
But I try, nevertheless,
For if I don’t tell,
Whatever I know very well,
This world won’t hear, nor see, nor know,
This story of yours, these realities with horrors in tow.
This wide world can’t know of the many things that take place,
Of the sufferings you go through, the miseries you see, the difficulties you face.
The world will never know what it feels like to be a pawn in war,
Nor what it feels like to lead a life like yours from afar,
Nor the trials and the tribulations that define you,
Nor any of the things that are for you, true.
So I try to do my best, something,
And tell them the thing,
So they know,
For you, your brethren,
And when I write, dear one,
I want you to know that it is not fun.
Because every bomb that goes off out there,
Makes my heart thump and race in fear and scare.
Because every story of rape, murder and molestation I hear,
Sets off my thoughts running wild and amok, haywire, in fear.
Because every time I see that some have died, some are injured, some are alive,
I want to know if you are safe, comfortable in your hive.
And so I try to be some kind of a conduit,
A speaker, a writer, a voice, for a bit,
Something that would
Show the world,
All that you