My Refugee Story as a Kurd


By Dalya Karezi:

Our past is a story that only we understand

But mine is so messed up that I find hard to tell while I stand.

My story is different, but I cannot say I am the only one,

Every time I reminisce about my childhood I just want to run.

Although I was young I couldn’t comprehend.

I wasn’t blind nor was I deaf, hence most of the time I thought it was just pretend.

The sound of mothers screaming and children crying

Gave me the shivers as if I was dying.

Inability to read due to poor education,

Decrease in population, inefficient medication

Gunshots fired, running from fear, shedding of blood

Mothers holding newborn barefoot in the black mud

My family escaped the horror film that I do not wish anyone to see

Because only I can understand the life that was set in front of me

Being a refugee didn’t label me in anyway, rather it strengthened my motivation to achieve, inspire and have a say.

And no I did not come by boat, I came by plane

But in my journey we did walk through hail snow and rain.

I am thankful for the life I have been given each day

This is only a glimpse of what I have been through as a child,

Luckily I was very young and the flashback severity is only mild.

Some may not understand why people run from home,

But I will just finish with saying no one flees and leaves all they have for no reason.

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