A love letter to those who judge me based on my status

Judge me not in a mournful way
if I still resist to live with pride
and dignity,
for I triumphed over the life
of death and horror –
not once, not twice,
but years after years.

I stood like a brave man –
I stared right into death’s eyes,
I stared as long as the death
retreated with unforgettable shame.

I walked those valleys of death
that you have only seen
in horror movies –
I sailed those black seas
which are not even displayed
in terror movies;
I survived the stupid beasts
who only exist in Afghanistan,
under different terrorist names.

Look right in the forehead,
you will see lines of
practical experiences
from every battle grounds;
the lines of triumphed battles
in the valleys of wild wolfs;
the lines that only exist
in the forehead of heroes.

After all,
I’m the descendent of a tribe
(Hazara) who is full of honor, pride,
dignity, bravery, peace loving wards,
who was never defeated
in the grounds of sports,
education, civilization,
tolerance, acceptance,
love and peacefulness.

Though these lines took way
the glue from my face,
yet they are the pleasant earnings –
earned from the ups and downs;
from hilltops and mountain tops
on the sands of time.

I’m the survivor of
the world’s most horrifying place,
I survived the men with swords
in their hands,
and rockets on their shoulders
hunting me;
I’m not like a dumb driven cattle,
perhaps, I’m the survival, the hero
in the strife of life and death.

I trust my future dreams,
I allow the dead past bury
its dead over the valleys of
wild wolfs from where
I came here with triumph –

In here, under your wings,
I worked with patience
though my belly was often empty –
yet I didn’t give up and worked,
I worked with endurance and
I earned it with my sweat of blood.

Tell me not how to agree
with everything you command –
if my pride in the capacity of
a prideful human being
doesn’t agree
your brooding interests.

Judge me not in mournful way,
for I’m a hero of your age
who in spite of being hit
on the rocky grounds
yet I stood up like a hero
and fixed my wounds myself
and walked again
with the same energy and pride.

Tell me no how to live,
for I’m the hero of your time
who walked with bare foot
millions of miles and climbed
valleys and mountains of death
which you are even afraid
to see in your dreams –
yet I survived and desire to live
with higher hopes and prides.

don’t fucking judge
me in mournful way
for I’m the hero of
your time.

About samad1986

Abdul Samad Haidari is a poet, writer, teacher and a former freelance journalist, currently residing in Indonesia as a stateless refugee. He is the author of The Red Ribbon He fled his home country at the age of seven and grew up wandering in Pakistan and Iran as a child refugee, and was separated from his family for the majority of his childhood. For two years, at the age of eight and nine, he was forced into child labour in the construction industry in Iran. In contrast, Pakistan offered refugees like him the opportunity to study and work. This education and work experience culminated in Abdul teaching computer studies and English language courses at the Intel Computer Center and Pak Oxford Professionals. After the collapse of the Taliban government, Abdul returned to Afghanistan thinking that the security situation had improved, and that he could take part in the reconstruction of his war-torn country. With this in mind, Abdul served as a freelance journalist and humanitarian aid-worker in areas of the country that remained dangerous to civilians because of the influence of terrorist groups. Abdul served with the Norwegian refugee council (NRC), ActionAid Afghanistan, Daily Outlook Afghanistan group of newspapers, and The Daily Afghanistan Express. As a freelance journalist, Abdul wrote articles and editorials about on-the-ground realities, which were then circulated widely. These had a particular focus on women and children’s rights, corruption, transparency and accountability in government, warlords and terrorist groups’ actions and the systematic persecution of minority groups in both Afghanistan and Pakistan.
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