End GBV.Olive and Henna planet

These days mark the 16 Days of Activism against Gender-Based Violence, yet the war in Sudan continues to rage, and Sudanese women remain its fuel. They are the instruments of war, and the war is waged on their bodies. They are killed, burned, their corpses mutilated, and dragged through the streets.

They are gang-raped and sexually assaulted, and sold in slave markets across Africa.

Today, they are displaced, refugees, shackled, and imprisoned. I am sharing my story today on the World Plus platform, hoping that their voices will find a voice to reflect their anguish and their yearning to stop the war and establish peace.

Is my crime being a woman?

Is my shame that I am a girl?

Do they shackle my feet?

Do they tie me to the tails of horses? Because I am a girl?

I wish I had been buried alive, or had never been created in the clay of creation

. For neither my body nor my wasted years, nor my weary dreams, could speak of me. A flood of longing

Nor my blanket lying on the roads

To tell of me

Of my remains in the time of salvation

I am the ruby, proud of turning away

Oppression kindled me after death

And violence ignited me after the crumbs

Tell my killers, you will not find peace, you criminals

For in all religions

From Jesus to Muhammad

He who violates the sanctity of girls is sinful

He who kills the soul and the human being

And cloaks himself in the robes of judges

O fox in the guise of a boy

And the cunning one in the form of life

And the Janjaweed in the form of trustworthy ones

O pig with the ugliest attributes and a vile one in every word

Your oppression could not have bereaved us, could not have burned us, could not have written us in the registers of death

O cruel tyrants

Conferences will not do us justice

Condemnations will not lift the injustice from us

But the sword of Dhu Yazan in the crematorium

But the soldiers of Amr in the calamities

My soul is in the neck of a velvet bird, soaring Across the heavens

My story, my goal, my address, life

O mourners, cease!

Raise the tents and end the words!

For my crime is my unity among the nations, and my cry is "I am the blessed one!"

And I will remain, despite oppression, tyranny, and despotism,

And restriction and neutralization, the ladder of salvation.

I will remain in the ark with Moses,

And in the Psalms with David,

And in the covenant of Mary,

And Abraham, with noble foreheads.

My pen and paper are sacred,

And your war is mere nonsense.

I am the one who remains from your time,

I am the bell when it rings,

And I am the beauty among companions.

Come, repeat your injustice, your tampering with me,

For there is no escape,

Rather, the dawn of truth and radiance,

And caravans of promise and ears of yellow wheat,

Children from the olive and henna plant,

And my braids raise the banners of longing and selection.

For my destiny, my life, my existence is eternity,

It is pride, it is Staying