(Editor’s Note: Shir Aqa Sarbaz is a young Afghan refugee who recently arrived in the United States. Our paths crossed and he told me he was a poet, so I figured we should bring him on)
My house my home
My land full of bloom
My love my culture
My land full of nature
Oh God! what happened
Now everywhere is full of torture
We run and we run
to be safe from the gunman
We leave, we immigrate
To make our lifes great
We search, We starve
But can't find something to eat
Oh God! what happened
Why they kill me for faith
My veins are burning
My country men are dying
We deserve to live better
but why our death does not matter
And, My house, my home
Was land full of bloom
Shir Aqa Sarbaz started his first job this week in the United States of America.
Some of us still return every year to our old homeland in North Georgia to remember when the Americans rounded us up and removed us to the Great American Desert known as Indian Territory. After over 150 years you would think we would forget. Perhaps your great-great-great grandchildren will also remember and be able to return for short visits to your old homeland. I hope it shall be so.
It’d be cool to see the poem in their native language, too!