I am one of those women with a wild imagination.
I appeal for respect, and love.
I imagine being free of harsh claws that hold my thoughts,
Make me feel helpless and clueless.
I envision expressing myself as free as a noble man.
I do not mean his cursing or insults--
I mean free to speak up, make decisions. 
And Act.

I am one of those women with a wild imagination.
I desire to hold stars, to be successful and accomplished.
I look at the stars passionately, and make my dreams.
But the distance seems a challenge.
How can I hold the stars with a short, small hand?
Maybe I need something to offer 
To be privileged to embrace the stars.
Perhaps, I need a bigger hand, full of gold 
Or those pieces of paper called “Money.”
But I do not have any of those.
So, I take refuge in patience,
And trust the sweat of efforts,
Those unique diamonds.

I am one of those women with a wild imagination,
Who yearn to see the equality of Afghan men and women in action and in law.
I wish to see lovers walk in the streets of Kabul, Herat, Mazar, 
And other cities,
Holding hands, sharing hugs.
Free of harassments and harsh looks that aim toward them like bullets, 
I wish to see women drive their own cars, taxies, and buses.
I am longing to see Afghan women work with confidence and strength.

I want to be one of those women with a wild imagination.
I wish to see women running in the park, 
Unburdened of worries that someone may look or bitterly judge, 
Running for health, for leadership of companies and presidency,
Swimming, enjoying and breaking the man-run society.

When I talk of my wishes and dreams, 
I see some smirks, those deep cracks on their faces, 
Like valleys of darkness that pull down my existence.
I am standing on the edge
Looking down at those men and women, who clowns rule in their minds and hearts,
Mock a woman’s being and her struggle.
But I am a woman of wild imagination. 
Puppets like those clowns can’t break my will or steal my imagination.

My wild imagination is full of peace.
It is not wilder than the world in which it exists.
It is wild because it is natural and full of love.
It is wild because it is tired of being tamed.

A poem by Mahnaz Rezaie