An Afghan woman

 

Her face may be smooth, her hands could be rough?
Her day is hard; this woman’s life is tough.
A crumpled blue Burka to the floor,
Hiding her face, her sole and much more.

Her face may be smooth; her hands could be rough,
I don’t want to stare and I just can’t see enough.
Her body still, behind the viel no show of life,
Sat on the pavement, is she a wife?

What is her destiny? Has she a choice?
A silent stare her only voice.
Standing slowly she begins to walk,
Passing silently it’s deadly to talk.

She lives in her world, a private place,
Burdened and busy leave her space.
Was her face smooth, or her hands rough?
For an Afghan woman, life is tough.