malalai khan

you, the stranger in another's land—
belonging nowhere, yet chained by hand.
they bury you deep in a woven shroud:
don’t think, don’t look, don’t speak too loud.
but a single drop of ink,
lets you rise, begin to think.
and with paper, you fold your wings—
the ones they clipped—into a phoenix.
you sing a manifesto to break free
from the generational curse,
for you are an origami
of the universe.

the world’s silence shall echo
your words to the ends of the earth.
behind you, stand generations 
of women there ever were,
for you are daughters of warriors,
unsung, unheard,
but now the air shall ring 
with your song and fire.