Third letter to Khodayar

Dear Khodayar, food that is stored too long loses its taste and becomes unappealing. You were stored on a shelf, like a dead thing for many long, weary days. You felt your eyesight slowly dim like a plant kept out of the sunlight. You were kept away from the people and the places that you love. You had to leave Afghanistan. Your family were killed by the Taliban. Heroes would try to help you and villians would tyranise you. And you were the biggest hero of all. You were the traveller, the survivor. You crossed the ocean to find independence, for the sake of freedom and life. You learnt new languages and saw new countries through your nomad eyes. You made a camp were you lived your last days. You were not caught alive. You made the final choice to cut your life, that fatal decision. You had been sentenced to death as an Hazara refugee but you wouldn’t let them kill you. You denied them that and you died free. The flames an angry breath of pain.

Love Stephen Clendinnen