Bayt: Home

She was trying to
Find the oxymoron
To her sorrowful life
As she turned
The pages of the past.
“I will travel the world“,
She had once proclaimed
When asked what her dream was.
Oh, what an irony it seems
That she travelled through countries
From the Arab states to Turkey
And sailed to the beautiful Greek islands
Which were nothing like her home,
Where she woke up to dark skies
And where the alarm
Wasn’t the chirping birds
But deafening explosions
And still, unhappy,
As if she regrets
what she dreamt of.
She now searches for a covert
Which would be her home
But unlike her home
Where faces wouldn’t be so alien
And love and food would be in excess.
And as she takes refuge
In the next alien country
To be persecuted again,
All she wishes for her life
Is to turn from awful
To awfully good.