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When I get home
I play with the dolls
Mother makes from cloth
From clothes we never wear
Sometimes I play with Zeena
Making mud pies
Playing with bugs
Swing on the swing
Father made for me
We have a fairy house
Down at the stream
We talk to the fairies
Our house is a castle,
Every fairy dreams to live in
My little ones
Zeena whispers to them
I admire Zeena
Somehow she finds a way to
See hope
While we live through this
Tragic nightmare
I admire her
Very much...
YOU ARE READING
The Journey Home
PoetryIn this strikingly touching poem journal, follow the journey of a young afghan refugee, Ajani. As time passes in Kabul, Afghanistan, the capital and the city which she was born and raised in, she struggles to find serenity for her and her family. Th...
