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A Poem: Refugee

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The home of our dreams

humor-has-its-time-and-place

Dear World, This I know.

Life in the present is uncertain.

Life in the past is gone, all gone.

Our beautiful home, where dreams were coming true?

It is gone, our dreams buried beneath its rubble.

I am afraid to dream now.

There are only the nightmares.

If I could dream, it would be for our children.

Their father stayed behind to his uncertain dreams.

Killings, only killings.

The bodies of family and friends...images unforgettable.

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God grant he not seek revenge, keep him safe.

How long can charity last? And what then?

I feel so alone, as if I have sacrificed one fear for a dozen others.

I used to fear there would be no tomorrow.

Now I fear all the tomorrows.

Clouds of war have given way to clouds of doubt.

The future used to be so clear.

Now it lies hidden somewhere in those nightmares I dare not dream.

__________

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© 2022 Demas W Jasper

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