I am displaced!
My breasts are stabbed in Istanbul and my throat is torn in Zabul.
My ears are full of dead and living slogans, and I hear the echo of Allah Akbar everywhere, both when I am beheaded and at the same time as the terrible sound of an explosion.
The UN High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) has not considered me homeless and has been covering me for forty years; The cover that I have laid in kilns and crumpled in manufacturing plants and they have written my statistics hypocritically and falsely, I have left my bones in the deserts of Sistan and Baluchestan and they have built for me the white hell camps of white stone and black mud.
I am an immigrant!
I do my best to go to Australia only to be deported to Manus and Nauru, or in any case I cross the bitter waters of the Mediterranean until Germany, Finland and Sweden give me a thousand euros and respectfully return me to Kabul to make a ten-way journey again.
Be stained with my blood.
Where have I not committed suicide?
From Bogor Indonesia to Sydney Park to the Horn of Earth; Norway and Sweden and where have I not eaten?
Where is my end?
When is the end of this misfortune?
On what date will my year of life take place?
My only companion is my cries, and my only everlasting hatred, in all my helplessness, is neither the religion of healing pain nor democracy in the name of the West, nor the false claimants of human rights.
Faisal is a refugee from Afghanistan. Kabul is considered one of the most dangerous cities in the world, plagued with terrorism and intranational conflict for decades. Young men like Faisal face the risk of recruitment into violent groups, forcing many of them to flee for safety in Europe. Faisal is a dedicated volunteer with local organizations and is a friend to many different people from all over the world. His kindness and belief in improving the world in the face of such hardship are an inspiration to us all.