The Eye Of The Syrian Refugee:
All that life was built upon
Betrayed us and is gone.
Where to go and call a 'home'
Now seems to be unknown
A civil war aroused
The wake of an exodus
We take with us what's left to own
With no time ov'r the lost to mourn
To flee a place of memories
To foreign lands as refugees
Means chased by a native land that's quelled
To win a chance of survival.
Our voyage will be so uncertain
Doubts of death, our greatest burden
We may fall prey to a raging sea
Than die chained by war's cruelty
Watching the dear ones perish away
Even before we can reach a bay
Shatters the last of our broken hearts' hope
Billowed when merciless winds of life blow
If we, by chance, manage t'survive
We'd have no means to continue alive
Surrounded by miles of foreign lands
Without a penny to possess in hand
Exhausted and worn out, our faces are drawn
We're unsure of how life still even goes on
Losing just everything except our breath
Only makes living more bitter than death.
Author's Note:
This was a poem that I'd written nearly two years ago when the Civil war in Syria was raging and the refugees were most pitiable.
I couldn't publish it though, considering quite soon, my place was afflicted severely by floods. Now, I just thought I'd post it, because, why not?
Love,
Niki Christianne
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