dials +93

my graveyard.

I can hear my mom crying downstairs. she screams out names im familiar with in despair. she dials +93 repeatedly throughout the night. I hear the operator tell her “the person you are trying to reach is not there.” so she tries again. and again. and again. and again. the voicemail is my white noise. I can fall asleep knowing my family is living in a country of war. knowing one day I can wake up and they’ll simply not be there. they tell us they’re ready to die, I don’t think that’s fair. there is a bloodbath in Afghanistan and the world seems to not care. their screams deafening to the ears of non Afghans, what about our blood makes you unaware? unaware of the atrocities that our people are suffering through. the US withdrew i can almost hear Biden looking for a corkscrew. it is our beauty, our clothing, our culture that deems us worthy to remember. but the screams of an afghan child are deaf to your ears forever. long live Afghanistan 🇦🇫