Who loves me, as did Allah love the prophet…”/
I couldn’t breathe
My home a barren bed pillowed in fear
Where I lay afraid and in despair.
My little brother
Whose smile was as the morning sun
Learns madness while my sister hides her face
to fetch water from the well
My father and uncles – memories in dust
My little sparrow, my betrothed
I will never see again
And my mother
Who gave me milk
Who loves me
As did Allah love the prophet
Begs me in tears to run
To find some place free of this madness
So I go
And the pain of going is so great
That to breathe
I cannot look back
. . . . . . .
On the boat, in the camp and now in the streets of this town
The madness in my dreams and the new faces that hate me
pursue me and my hopes
I am sad
Where is my little brother
Whose smile was as the morning sun?
Where is my sister who hides her face to fetch water from the well
Where is my little sparrow
whose voice gladdened my heart?
Where is my mother who gave me milk, who loves me
as did Allah love the prophet?