Where is Home?

It was cold when I woke up this morning on the street

With bitter cold wind freezing my face, my hands and my feet

‘You’re finally awake, good morning!’ she said

Greeting me as if I had just gotten out of bed

‘We have new toys today.’

She ironically continued calling out for me to play

We play with bullets and we play with bombs

While other kids play with real toys in their homes

We have no homes, no schools, just streets that are painted red

A sentence that she often said

And hearing it I would always dread

However it was true, because after all both our parents were dead

But through it all, we laughed and we played

Until it came that dreaded time of day

When we all had to run away

They hid behind their fortresses and guns

And killed everyone, old and young

Until there were none

We watched in silence and in fear

Waiting for them to disappear

The man in the helmet turned and vacantly stared

At me, as if I was no more than air

He then turned and vanished as if he was never there

As quickly as it had started it finally stopped

And with the sound of the last gunshot my heart dropped

I walked down the street trying to ignore the bodies and the blood

Looking for her, looking ahead

All the time hoping I wouldn’t see the body I prayed I would never have to see

The one I then saw lying right in front of me

She’d disappeared for a moment when I turned my head

And now she is dead

I cried as I roamed the streets all alone

Where, oh God, where is home?

She was my best friend, my family and my all

She made me feel safe in a time of war

In a country that was no longer mine, I stood on my own

Wondering where is my home?

• bullets
• children
• friendship
• helmet
• home
• school
• soldiers
• toys
• war