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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2212652
by Zehzeh
Rated: E · Poetry · Contest Entry · #2212652
There is no place like home
What's she doin', standin' in the rain?
Is she mad, standin' in the rain?
Where's she from, standin' in the rain?
A refugee, standin' in the rain?
How come she's here, standin' in the rain?
All in that pyjamas, not for standin' in the rain?
When did she get here, standin' in the rain?
She'll catch her death, standin' in the rain?
Why is she standin' in the rain?
Is she pretending to be a flower, standin' in the rain?
Who is she, standin' in the rain?

I was born in the desert, in the rock and sand.
We moved with the goats, crossing rock and sand.
The sun was never covered by clouds
And all the grazing died.
There was nothing but rocks and sand.
We walked and walked across the rocks and sand.
The goats died.
The old people died.
The babies died.
I walked and walked across the rocks and sand.
Alone, I came to a place
And I was given water
And food.


New parents took me away,
To this place where blessed water
Falls from above.
And I remember
The rocks.
The sand.
The goats.
The old ones.
The young ones.
My family.


The tears mingled with the raindrops
As the refugee
Looked towards
Home.

37 lines
© Copyright 2020 Zehzeh (zehzeh at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2212652