These two poems were written by Hafia Shakoori, 19, a young woman from our community who left Afghanistan aged 14. We found them moving and inspiring, and it’s incredible to think that English is not Hafia’s first language! The theme of this year’s Refugee Week is courage, and these poems express and demonstrate all kinds of courage.

Courage to Believe

She was a little girl
with pockets full of dreams,
and a heart that trusted every smile.

She believed that the world was kind,
that every road led somewhere beautiful,
and that hope was something no-one could ever lose.

Then, the maps changed.
The roads grew longer
and home became a place she could only visit in memory.

Some nights she carried entire oceans
behind eyes that refused to cry.
Some mornings she rose again
with nothing but courage to wear.

Yet she gathered her tears like pearls
Threaded them into verses
And called them poetry.

Now she walks with storms in her chest
And sunlight in her hands.
Still dreaming,
Still writing,
Still becoming.

For despite everything she lost,
She never lost the girl
Who believed in tomorrow.

If You Ever Meet Her

Do not make her open her mouth
Do not ask her what she thinks
Do not ask her what she remembers
Do not ask her what she has buried deep inside

Because if she begins
She will not speak for herself alone.

She will speak for generations,
For every woman who swallowed her words
So others could stay comfortable.
For every dream buried alive
Before it had the chance to breathe.
For every injustice called God’s Will.

She will tell how you taught her silence
And named it Rectitude.
How you took her dreams,
Her choices
Her freedom
And expected gratitude in return.

She will tell you how she gave you everything.
Her blood.
Her strength.
Her youth.
Her sleepless nights.
Her aching body.
Her exhausted soul.
She created generations
While sacrificing pieces of herself.

And what did she receive in return?
Fear.
Tears.
And years of endless pain.

She loved being a woman.
She loved her softness,
Her kindness,
Her tenderness,
Her ability to create life.

But you followed her through streets
Judged her in homes
Controlled her in families
Harassed her in silence.
Until she began to hate
What she once celebrated.

She will tell you
How you twisted faith
To fit your desires.
How every verse that benefited you
Became sacred.
While every verse that
Demanded justice from you
Was conveniently forgotten.

She will tell you how you used words as weapons
How you hid cruelty
Behind righteousness
How you covered her so completely
Thay even the wind struggled
To touch her.

Yet your eyes wandered freely
Towards the women you felt
Entitled to possess.
And when she said ‘No’
When she dared to refuse
When she remembered
That she belongs to herself.
Your ego shattered.

And suddenly you believed
You had the right
To insult her
To control her
To abuse her
To destroy her.

She will tell you how gentle you became
For your daughter.
How protective you became
For your sister.
How loving you became
For your mother.

Yet how merciless you became
For someone else’s daughter.
Someone else’s sister
Someone else’s mother.

If you ever meet her
Do not let her open her mouth

Because the truths inside her
Have survived for generations.
And once they are spoken
They will no longer protect
Your fragile comfort.