I WRITE MY HEART OUT

In a busy home where many generations lived together, we were born into a joint family system. Here, family values weren't just taught; they were the very air we breathed. From the moment we could walk, we learned the importance of family. Growing up with brothers, we often acted like them, sometimes forgetting how to be women, even though we were fragile and sensitive. As the only girls in such a household, the weight of responsibility settled on our shoulders early on. Our own choices were rarely prioritized; the family's needs always came first. Whether it was about our school or work, hanging out with friends, traveling, or even driving a car, every decision required the entire family's approval. Respecting family choices, even when it meant hiding our pain, was normal. Regardless of whether our relatives were on good terms with our parents, we had to respect and participate in family events to keep the peace. The values we grew up with meant we had to show respect to e

My heart is Echoes of the Mountains,  A Cry for Justice.  My heart is heavy, shadows everywhere,
 Injustice, unfairness, inhumanity in the air.
 Not bound by race, yet racism it’s called,
 My heart bleeds, my spirit appalled. For my Pashtoon community, I weep and cry,
In the land of mountains,  where hopes should fly.
 My voice shivers, expressing the pain, 
Of Wazir family, enduring endless strain. Mountains calling, now mountains cry,
 Echoing our anguish to the sky.
 Why us? Why Pashtuns, why this fate?
 Oh motherland, your love innate. Protected we stand, yet suffering we bear,
 Injustice surrounds us, life so unfair.
 Why us? We ask, with hearts worn thin, 
Seeking solace, strength from within. In the name of Gilamaan Wazir,  we stand tall,
Facing adversities,  together we call.
For justice, for peace,  for our community’s right,
 In the echoes of mountains,  we continue our fight. A Cry for Justice,  My heart is Echoes of the Mountains.