A tragic date in history, the emotional day of 9/11,
committed by extremists who believe, 72 virgins they will have once they reach heaven.
Halfway around the world,
in a land whose cry was barely heard.
There fights a girl,
Malala, whose very words make the Taliban’s blood curdle.
She speaks for a basic human right,
it is for education that she is willing to fight,
in the land of sand and the cool desert night.

She has dared to speak out with no guarantee to be safe,
this is what has caused all of the traditions to chafe.
These traditions are what shot a child,
for these men there is no being mild.
With her country of 50 million illiterate,
she refuses to budge or quit.

She has spoken before prestigious leaders,
and refuses to be deterred.
She speaks to get the message out,
with inequality we must all bout.
For if we do not stand up for the oppressed now,
who shall stand up for us to when the tables are turned without a sound.

In order to gain more support she has written a book,
“My Name Is Malala” but with a pinch of salt it was took.
Nothing but hate from her own country did she receive,
but it was not for fame for which this movement was conceived.
This book opened the eyes of the blind,
allowing through the hate ,her cause, to climb.

Though the hardest criticism came first from her home in Swat,
She remained loyal to her beliefs but it was not for naught.
Now she still longs to return and fight,
it is her wish that we should help in her plight.