The Tree and Me

  • Flame
  • eye
  • Tahbeer
  • Pens
  • dagh
  • Baikhabari
  • Tree
  • Flight

 When I was a child

My father planted a tree

In the yard just for me.

The Tree was almond

With leaves all green

With blossoms all white

Like a symbol of peace

All day, all night.

I waterd the tree

She gave me the freshness

We spook with each other like the birds

With songs, not words.

She wanted to reach the sky

I wanted to catch the sun

We wanted to be forever

Friends and together.

But one day my Father said:

“You must say good bye to the tree

Good bye to the sky

Good bye to the birds

Good bye to the sun

Because the war has begun

There will be no more peace

No more fun

Just the sounds of the gun.”

I went to the Tree:

“I am helpless to fly.”

The Tree didn’t cry:

“You are not the only one…

But we must to stay with the land

With our own lovely land

You by heart, me by hand.”

I was so shy

She was so high.

What happened with my Tree?

With my own baby sister Tree?

Maybe she burned with a bomb?

Maybe she destroyed with a rocket?

Maybe she just simply cut in the pieces

With a scary axe?

Go away hoplessness

Go away darkness!

I am sure my Tree is save and sound

Her leaves give the oxygen for the smoky sky

Her branches give sweet almonds

To the hungry orphans

Who are trying to be with the land

By heart and by hand.

I hope I will be back again

And will see my Tree

Grow up and free.

By Parween Pazhwak, 1998, Canada

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