By Giya Agarwal
10th grade | Interlake Senior High School | Washington
Third place winner, Peace and Conflict category

With lines from “Far From Home” by Amie Ferris-Rotman and Zahra Joya, a Pulitzer Center reporting project

                  I.             NAJIBA
                                  run, run, run far in the night
                                  under the cover of a burqa
                                  see how a motherland disappears
                                  the word ‘girl’ spat like a curse
                                  see how terror walks into a city
                                  call me a patriot, call me a refugee
                                  the strange men call and say…
                                  run, run, run far in the night
                                  cross mountains & moonlight

                    II.          BATOOL
                                  a marketplace & sounds of home
                                  what is knowledge worth?
                                  draw escape routes into earth
                                  flee once, flee twice
                                  be everything a regime fears
                                  we are all warriors here
                                  protest songs & sounds of home
                                  claimed asylum within rome
                                  a mother’s love is finding hope

                 III.           SAHRA
                                  half a lifetime out of reach
                                  every night I dream my memories…
                                  closed eyes see kabul roots while
                                  eyes open to london hotel rooms
                                  a whiteboard & an unshaped youth
                                  there is power in history & truth
                                  a new half a lifetime out of their reach
                                  relearn the language & lexicon
                                  my survival is a form of rebellion

                IV.            HASINA & RAIHANA
                                 the two angels are grounded
                                 burn every trace of our existence
                                 pilot IDs & diplomas are kindling
                                 uniforms traded for aprons
                                 worn suitcases and paper maps
                                 finding ways to fill a sky’s gap
                                 hell hath no fury like a woman…
                                 the two angels will fly again

                  V.            ZAHRA
                                 clean the camera lens
                                 anxious texts & a screen aglow
                                 we are all immortalized in photo
                                 art is the air in a dying man’s lungs
                                 metal pins in pictures of suffering
                                 like tasting iron on tongue
                                 the world will see our blood
                                 sitting in front of blank canvas
                                 looking for peace outside bamiyan
                                 focus the camera lens

                VI.            BASIRA
                                 the soldier at the front of two wars
                                 makeup and a sheer veil: armor
                                  raise a voice or raise a sword
                                  I built this empire all by myself
                                  worn poetry books on the shelf
                                  brandish a sign, march on the streets
                                  dublin flats & learning to leave
                                  the soldier at the front of two wars
                                  whether it’s who you love or who you are
                                  each battle is the same at its core

              VII.            MASOUMA
                                  rise from the ash, rise, rise
                                  become accustomed to goodbyes
                                  the fairy lights & the candles behind
                                  colder mornings & the echo of sirens
                                  there is a relief in waking to silence
                                  reach out & clutch the next horizon
                                  weathered backpack & past lives
                                  do you see the survivor in my eyes
                                  rise from the ash, rise, rise


Giya Agarwal is a rising junior at Interlake High School. Her work has previously been recognized by the New York Times and Hollins University. She loves to write, especially about global issues such as climate change or women’s rights and believes that art is one of the truest forms of advocacy. Outside of writing, she spends her time competing at Speech & Debate, volunteering, and listening to ABBA on repeat.

Read more winning entries from the 2024 Fighting Words Poetry Contest.