Where I Am From: A Poem by a Syrian Refugee

Sometimes, the most profound art comes from devastation. Please take a moment to read this incredible poem written by a 19 year old Syrian refugee. She has requested to remain anonymous.

 

Where I Am From

 

I am from my early memories

From lovely friendship and harsh separation

I am from the three days that I spend in the war with deserted streets

From shoes mixed with blood, with music of warplanes

 

From the dark black nights and sound of hungry dogs

I am from the morning when my dad asked a man who’s ready to shut down his shop and leave

the country, “Do you have kuboos (bread)? Even if it is old?”

Believing that one day the sun will rise up again and light this persecuted city (Damascus)

I am from the beautiful neighborhood and the nice people

From my grandma’s house and pomegranate trees

I am from the smell of summer rain and fresh air

Birds singing and the wind dancing with the trees

 

I am from Nova and Muhammad Ali,

Where both of my grandpas live in heaven

I am from the wing on the branch of a fig tree

From the grapes hanging from the pergola

I am from my early memories and full life of dreams

 

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