Though you may only know of this country through 9/11 and reports on the news of violence, there is much more to beautiful Afghanistan than war and bloodshed. My parents served there as humanitarian aid workers for 20 years and having grown up there until I was 14, it holds a place near and dear to my heart. Even though I have an American passport, I am privileged enough to call it home. However, the beauty of Afghanistan is often overshadowed by its label as a third-world country. Afghanistan has breathtaking mountains, soaring blue skies, a rich history, and a culture more generous and hospitable than any other, yet its people are falsely generalized as terrorists and its struggles forgotten. This is a poem I wrote to share a perspective on Afghanistan you will not see in the media. One of the most distinguishing characteristics of the desert-like country is its dust. It spreads everywhere, clings to everything, and is unquestionably germ ridden. However, Afghan dust is beautiful.

Afghan Dust is Beautiful

Afghan dust is beautiful.

The dust of the roads

And our feet and our soles

And the tires that roll.

Weary, weary is the word.

The dust on the fruit and vegetables

We buy from the market

Washed with iodine from faded blue bottles.

The houses, they’re dusty too.

Vivid pinks and oranges, blues and greens,

Cement blocks of corners and colors.

But they are all dusty hues.

Lest not forget the crumbling brown houses

On the crumbling brown hills

Built on crumbling brown rocks.

These houses, they are made of dust.

And the dust in our clothes,

Our pillows, our cars,

Our brooms and our closets,

Our ceilings and floors.

The cat, even she is dusty too.

Even the sky is a dusty shade of blue.

And when the wind blows, dust scatters.

And when the wind really blows

The windows and doors scatter,

Slamming shut and swinging open.

Aeolus’s dusty spirit is at play.

Yet still, this dust is beautiful.

This dust that holds sorrow,

Holds bloodshed and pain.

This dust that we come from

This dust of our bane.

This dust is beautiful

Because without it,

Afghanistan could not be the same.