A Boy in a Refugee Camp, Outside Syria

There is just the desert here.
It comes in sandstorms and wind
it stretches beyond imagination
and can never be brushed away
the air is so thick it is hard to breathe,
I must run home before I am blinded.

The edge of the camp is where my heart waits
looking out to Syria. It is not so far,
white houses are now white rubble
everything is bombed.

My father tries to make a garden
with peppers and a small jasmine tree,
but first the sand comes
then the rain storms and wind.

My friend wants to be a maths teacher,
he bakes bread seven days a week –
his mother lowers her eyes
every time her son hands her money.

I visit a shop that sells birds
and watch them in their cages,
they cannot stretch their wings
but their songs are beautiful,
they sing to our hearts.
My heart is in a cage.

I must believe that one day I will
open the caged hearts of my people
then the song birds will be able to fly home

Bismillah ir-Rahman ir-Rahim*

‘Oh Syria, I miss you so much, look at me’.


*In the name of God most Gracious, most Compassionate.
The Qur’an
With acknowledgements to www.drummertelevision.com/project/368