The Mothers of Afghanistan – Bibi Shireen

Bibi was a simple Afghan mum who at 13 married her deceased sister’s husband of 40. She gained 3 children then had 4 of her own. She was incredibly brave and showed me the beauty of the Afghan people beyond the veil of our cultural misconceptions. I had the unique opportunity to spend time with an Afghan family, to not speak the language but to observe from the heart our shared humanity. Mothers all over the world are asking for peace, for it is their families that suffer. It is our mothers we run to when we are hurting. They give us life and nurture us, then life is taken away.

I gave this poem to her son after she died. I feel now it is time for peace. This will happen when each of us choose love over fear.

BIBI SHIREEN

Bibi Shireen,
My mother and my friend,
So serene,
Yet turmoil beneath the soil,
Of your country.

You welcomed me into your family,
Without hesitation,
I was your guest,
Yet I was your family,
We talked,
With no language,
Yet we understood,
As our hearts shone,
The same song.

Our meeting was fate,
The war in Afghanistan,
The exile of your love,
Across the world,
How do you divide yourself?
How does your country divide itself?
To meet the needs of all.

A mother’s love is no substitute,
As he stood in front of your fire,
He kept warm,
You smiled,
As you gently ran your fingers through his hair,
Reminding him of his inner child,
Safe and secure,
Forgetting life for a while.

Such a beauty I see in your smile,
Such a sadness I see in your strength,
As you stare impassively at life,
For it has taken your youth again,
It has dictated to you,
Cancer has not forgiven you,
As your pain burns from within,
The greatest sin of beliefs,
Is creating an enemy,
But the enemy is within the heart,
Many are at war,
They tear their lives apart,
In search of power,
But we know that real power
Does not steal,
Real power does not perch
Awaiting its victim,
Real power is the prism of love,
That reveals compassion,
That reveals kindness,
That shares its last bread,
That makes sure you have been fed,
That places itself last,
Protector of the soul,
You are god’s child,
I feel you are old.

A sacred connection,
A link to the east,
Through you I feel your people,
I am silently led,
I was given an insight,
I was shown the light,
Of your humanity,
I feel your plight,
As the resignation
Sets in the eyes,
No sunrise a sad demise.

I can see that war is heinous,
In fact my words cannot describe this dis-ease,
For it eats away at dignity,
It removes the clothes of status,
It consumes itself in its own fire,
The lies are used to justify,
Such cruelty defies my inner-sense,
As lives lie in ruins,
And all that was good,
Burns in the ashes of hatred,
All the laughter is gone,
Just the sound of guns and bombs,
Helicopter gunships,
Righting wrongs,
Is not possible in this crime.

No reparation can repair her damage,
No rebuilding can bring down her wall,
There is no way out of the memories,
Happiness is silently called,
As one calls a child,
That is lost and cold,
That is the life of a refugee,
Bought and sold.

My vision casts its shadow on my home,
I see the violence on television,
I see the wrestlers acting in submission,
I see the video games teaching division,
Training the young for theft,
For violence,
For killing,
At best,
Without any conception that this is the road,
That leads us to oblivion,
No one questions this logic,
No one looks to the past,
No one cries out that this civilization…
won’t last.

I see it all interconnected,
I see Bibi as myself,
I feel her suffering,
I feel her pain,
I cry at night as I feel the strain,
Of humanity’s illusion,
Insanity’s confusion,
Humanity’s conclusion,
Is close at hand.

I try to build bridges,
I try to peace together the fragments,
I try to speak forth words of love,
I try to heal the hurts,
I will never give up,
Whilst her vision is in my mind,
For in her innocence and truth,
I find Myself.