A poem about Afghanistan

Khorshid*, a young Afghan woman who now lives in Germany, wrote a poem to mark the anniversary. Terre des Hommes has permission to publish it:

*Name changed to protect the identity of the person.

 

August 15, 2021 - The day I finally lost my home

A cry against forgetting. Against silence. Against
indifference.

I will never forget August 15, 2021.
Never.

On that day, the Taliban took Kabul.
On that day, not just a city fell—a country fell.
My homeland fell.

It wasn't the first time I'd lost her—that happened when I had to flee.
But that day I lost her for good. Not because of my escape. But
because there's no Afghanistan left for me to ever reclaim.

What remains is a place without hope. Without freedom. Without a future.

Since that day, a crime has been committed—
day after day. Hour after hour. Life after life.

I see how women are systematically disenfranchised.
I read how girls are banned from schools—
how their futures are erased, their voices stifled, their dreams buried.
I hear them say,

"Afghanistan is a prison without walls—with sky above us and
ground beneath us. But no air to breathe."

They're right.

Afghan women live like prisoners in their own country.
Without rights. Without protection. Without hope.

And the world?
It watches.
It remains silent.
It calculates.
It forgets.

Germany promised help.
It promised to evacuate 1,000 vulnerable Afghans every month.
Three years later, that number has dropped to barely 6,000.

What about all the people who worked for Western organizations?
The activists, journalists, teachers?
The women who embodied hope—and are now hunted, imprisoned, and tortured for it?
They were betrayed. And they were left behind.

And meanwhile, Iran and Pakistan are pushing Afghans back into hell every day.
To the borders. Into violence. To death.
And Europe?
It looks away. Germany too. Even today.

I am safe.
But my heart is not.

I am allowed to study.
I am allowed to live.
But every day I ask myself:
Why me?
And why not them?

I speak to girls in Afghanistan.
I hear their tears.
I read their messages in which they whisper that they can't go on.
That they want to give up.

And me?
I cry with them.
I scream – inside.
I feel powerless.

I live – while they die.
I fight – while they have no more strength.
I dream – while their dreams are trampled under boots.

What happened is betrayal.
What continues to happen is a silent murder – of dignity, of hope, of life.

The world has abandoned Afghanistan.
The Taliban rule with fear, with violence, with ideology – and the West looks on.
The international community, which once promised freedom, is now allowing an entire generation to disappear into darkness.

But we will not remain silent.
We must not.

Because you can lose your homeland.
But don't forget.

I lost my homeland.
But I kept my voice.
And I will use it.

For all those who are no longer allowed to speak.
For all those who have been silenced.
Let us remember.
Let us speak.
Let us act.

For the girls who are not allowed to learn.
For the women who are not allowed to live.
For Afghanistan.