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Uncle Qayoom runs into my room
Ajani, we must leave now!
I spring out of my bed
Waiting to wake up
From another nightmare
Soldiers lined up
At our walkway
To our small muddy
Cottage
I see a black SUV
Sitting on the dirt road
Is that our car?
I ask mother
It's our escape from agony
She groans from the tiredness
I go back into the room
Grabing my pink bag
Father gave me
And I wrap it around my limp shoulders
I take one last single breath
Before stepping out into the real world
Why world,
Why must you make me flee from my
Home
My hope
My peacefulness
I walk outside
To see Sister Nahla
Hugging and kissing
Her lover
I love you...
They speak
I ask mother
If I can visit the fairy garden
One last time
I walk down the dirt road
Walk down to the stream
Gone
The home is gone
Gone
Like the rest of my
Lost memories
YOU ARE READING
The Journey Home
PoezjaIn 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...
