0 One Voice

Malala;
one dream; one life, one country, one voice.

Moniba;
gives laughter and shares the dream.

Yousfazai;
the name of the leader, small and strong.

Fighting for the lives and love,
shooting to the moon and back.

The heat of Swat,
sitting under the blood-orange sun.

Her words said like a scripture.

Fear among all; living in fear,
like they are always being watched with a microscope.

It all starts with a beginning;
poor, poverty, hopeless,
the world seems dark.

It gets brighter as the sun comes from below.

Men are strong, jobs and power;
drowning the women with work at home, children.

Education; like a mystery never to be seen,
An anomaly, carefully watched.

Kids in trash, looking for food.

The bazaar, filled with merchants.

The whippings...
never deserved.

The light of the earth beats against your body;
sweat and aches as you walk.

Yet, the culture so pure.

Colors beaming in the light,
they seem to dance.

When the sun goes down,
the sky seems to glitter.

The darkness like a blanket,
over the eyes of the valley.

Still, the culture's purity remains.

The stars seem to be whispering,
the only noise of the night.

The moon; glowing brightly,
gives the black and white picture a spark of color.

Its light reflecting on the flowers.

When they fade away the light comes back,
the energy of the valley.

Malala, going to school in the crowded bus;
laughter fills the streets.

Footsteps pound on the old, rusted, wooden bus.

The bus is stopped at a halt.

A voice viciously, yet quietly asks,
"Who is Malala?"

Eyes turned, voices trapped,
no words of noise to be heard.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Three bullets...

The screeches of screams, the waterfall of cries,
filled the bus.

From the valley,
to the country,
to the oceans,
then to the world.

Her hearts remains to beat like a drum.

United.

God's way of saying,
what you have done has changed lives.

It all started;
with the greatness of your heart.

--Katie M., 13