Landays
poetry of the Afghan woman

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When sisters sit together, they always praise their brothers
When brothers sit together, they sell their sisters to others

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Landays are traditional Afghan poems, made up of just two lines and composed and recited by Afghan village women.

Afghan village women hold a special place in the world of landays, a form of poetry that beautifully captures their emotions and experiences. Although these verses are brief, they overflow with deep feeling and striking imagery.

But landays aren’t just about feelings; they’re about resistance.

Women have used them to grieve, to mock, and to push back against war and patriarchy. And even though they come from Afghan culture, the emotions they capture—longing, pain, strength—are things anyone can relate to. Landays show us that even the simplest words can carry huge power and speak truths that won’t be silenced.

Here are some of my favourites.

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Come, let’s lie thigh against thigh
If you climb on top, I won’t cry

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May God make you into a riverbank flower
so I may smell you when I gather water

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Come to Guantánamo.
Follow the clang of my chains

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You sold me to an old man, father
May God destroy your home
I was your daughter

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Unlucky you who didn’t come last night,
I took the bed’s hard wood post for a man

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Slide your hand inside my bra
Stroke the red ripening pomegranate
of Kandahar

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You have made bomb out of the Quran
you cause so much misery

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My love gave his life for our homeland.

I’ll sew his shroud with one strand of my hair

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What have you done to me, my God?

Others have blossomed. I stay tight as a bud

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You won't allow me to go to school.
I won't become a doctor.
Remember this:
One day, you will be sick

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May God destroy the Taliban and end their wars.
They’ve made Afghan women widows and whores

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Your eyes aren’t eyes. They’re bees.
I can find no cure for their sting

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Is there not one man here brave enough to see
how my untouched thighs burn the trousers off me?

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Making love to an old man
is like fucking a shriveled cornstalk blackened by mold

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Is there not one man here brave enough to see
how my untouched thighs burn the trousers off me?

ELHAM EHSAS

Landays poetry of the Afghan woman

Landays
poetry of the Afghan woman