Homeless

I remember a peaceful childhood, full of great dreams and hopes for the future… I dreamt of a family, I dreamt of my kids, I dreamt of love… But suddenly everything turned upside down. My dreams were dying under the feet of war. And there grow up fear, insecurity, dread, being lost.......but most of all being engulfed in despair. The only hope that I could still hear was the sound whispering "Escape, escape, escape…you no longer belong to here". What about my family, my culture, my loved ones…what about my country. But it was like I was forced to follow the whispering, I followed, just because it was the only sound with a faint beam of hope. Aside of all the dangers of the escape, it was a way full of fears, fears from what is waiting for me in my land of hope. After this very long trip fraught with danger, finally I stepped in the land of hope, or at least for me it was the land of hope. But soon my hope died under the feet of reality. My new country was less dangerous, less insecure, less dreadful, but not less painful, or more joyful. I was the stranger, the man that attracted the eyes of every single pedestrian in the streets, the stranger who was looked down upon, the stranger less human than everybody less, the stranger from the culture of infidelity, the stranger who can be the best source of laughter, the stranger who had to face all kinds of mockery, the stranger with nowhere to sleep, the stranger who cannot earn living, the stranger without a cover… I was nothing but a stranger. I decided to get over all my feeling, I decided to live, and I really did. I don't want to stay here, but I can't come back. Here I'm dying slowly, and back there I'll die suddenly. I just realized one fact, "I'm HOMELESS". My country was never a home, my new country is never a home, and nowhere on earth I'll feel home.

On the Heart of a Refugee