A poem about forced migration
Just a young woman,
Proudly walking through her streets,
Calm and at rest.
Suddenly that freedom is stripped from her,
Now she’s running with her children away from bombs.
Only hearing the cries of her people,
She walks day by day night by night.
Trying to find a safe place for the night.
The horror her eyes see
As her home is DESTROYED!
And lives are lost.
The blood being spilled on the floor;
As if it was gushing from a waterfall.
22 years later she’s back,
The land at peace, the houses white.
The Athaan from the Mosque fill her ears,
As her eyes sparkle in joy of how green,
The grass surrounding her home is.
But now that woman has grown old and feeble,
Not being able to see her country turn back to gold.
Her mind and heart at rest.
She smiles and says:
‘Yes finally I am in my home, Somaliland’.
By Amal Elmi, student at City of Bristol College