My unbarred thoughts,
the free immigrant birds of my childhood
My gleaming eyes, the bright light of Kohi-i-Noor
My soft lips, the glow of Darul Aman apple gardens
My hands, the strength of my mother’s heart
My passion, the winding thoughts of the village girls
My hair, the depth of darkness of the Pamir Mountains
My breasts, pure yet fully grown, eager and firm
My tongue, the mix of spices of Kashmir and Kabul
Each, one by one, separately
Shimmer through the true identity of an Afghan girl
Shahla Latifi
June 2022