“Bring Some Water; I’m Burning!” became a rallying cry for justice after Iranian security forces burned Afghan refugees alive in a car earlier this month. This poem is dedicated to the countless Afghan refugees killed for the simple “crime” of seeking refuge from war, extreme poverty, and terrorism.
For Ages,
The Taleban have been beheading us
In alleys of Ghazi and Helmand.
In Qom and Yazd,
Refugees are surrounded by man-made borders
Gasping for air with broken limbs.
Afraid of death,
I sought refuge to your home.
Not knowing that the heart of your people
Are made of stone, harder than our rocky mountains.
For years,
This land has been raining bullets on me.
The fire of hatred in your soldiers’ hearts
Has been burning me for years,
While I water your plants with my blood
Under the hot burning sun
With heavy sunken shoulders.
This land creates lakes from my blood
And builds houses from my ashes.
Here, my identity is an insult
And breathing is a crime.
Here, they silently watch me getting killed,
As if they are all thirsty for my blood.
If you ever seek refuge in their home,
Bring some water, my beloved.
Do not let them burn you thirsty as well.*
*A nod to Iranian poet Forough Farokhzad’s poem “If you come to my house.”