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I came from a beautiful place,
Full of trees of olives and oranges,
A running river and golden beach.
From north to south and east to west.
We had our own land,
a spacious house.
animals for food and milk.
I was a poet,
my sister an engineer,
my brother a doctor.
My parents owned a business,
And my mom was pregnant;
she wanted twins,
a boy and a girl.
I loved my country.
We lived in peace.
Until the hatred spread:
of my family,
my religion,
the way we talked.
We were unwanted.
They knocked down the door of my family’s home
and “disappeared” my father and brother.
My mother aborted the twins for whom she hoped.
I tried to protect my sister from ****,
but I couldn’t.
How cowardly I was!
We decided to leave, to flee.
Like thousands, we walked toward a mirage,
a dream of a better life.
My mother could barely walk,
my sister lost in her personal pain.
Only cacti, heat and sun for miles:
We crossed rivers and deserts.
mountains, hills and valleys.
Smugglers awaited us at the border,
demanding thousands to pass to a safe place.
“If you don’t pay, you die!”
What lay ahead we did not know.
But I knew no place could be better
than where I was born.

Mohammed Arafat
This poems talks about the refugees forced to leave their homelands.
  Jul 2022 The Young Poet
is your
midnight lullaby
dripping like honey
from the back of your throat
and your
anxious tears
dripping like sand
from the top of an hourglass

is the
perfume of orange blossoms
passing through my lungs
as we run through the orchard
and the
rotting smell of garbage
passing through the streets
as we climb onto the school bus

is the
sweet taste of dates
mixed with sugary syrup
kneaded into perfect pastries
and the
metallic taste in your mouth
mixed with the guilt in my stomach
kneaded into a sticky dough

is the
falling of ocean waves
over our heads
as we scream-laugh through the water
and the
falling of bombs
over our city
as we sit together in silence

how I wish
I could simply return
no longer exists
because home is
  Jul 2022 The Young Poet
A dark sun pulls heavily within
These long minutes of isolation
A vortex opens
A chasm in the lungs
And it makes the abrasive air thin.

I am breathing shallowly like one
Feral thing caught in a trap
Nowhere to run
And thus forced to rest right next
To the parts of myself that I hate
The parts that can’t escape their own
Internal blankness
Though they faintly remember how to sing or

The remote and shadowed trail to Jerusalem

Call me home
There is music in the bones of the forest
And the wild reeds are dancing on

The banks of Babylon  

We should not fall and
Lay our desecrated souls across an altar of darkness;

No, if you listen very carefully at the precipice of dawn,

There, where the mountains lift the thickened fog into a brightening sky

There is still the quiet drum of hope
And the flutter of so many unbeaten hearts
Like butterflies reborn


Inspired by this uplifting song out of South Africa. To me, it brings a sense of finding hope, finding a home for our worn souls <3 The words are in Zulu and mean “Jerusalem is my home, rescue me, walk with me, do not leave me here, come with me, walk with me” and these little dancers are a dance crew from Kampala, Uganda <3<3
  Jul 2022 The Young Poet
Herena Rosas
Where the heart is; sometimes a familiar place
Most of the time has heartbeat and a pair of eyes
A room filled with ray of hope; your favorite space
Arms that wrap your flaws while you cry

Hands that touches your soul and make you whole
Walls that protect you and make you feel safe
A fire lit that keeps you warm when you lose control
Thine soul who embrace and accept your imperfect shape

Solid foundation that carry your weight of regrets and mistakes
An open door where you find the sense of belonging
Dim light that brings comfort and stop your aches
A warm breathe you will always look forward in the morning

Wherever that person go; it felt like coming home to a being
Home isn't a place; it's a feeling
I hope you know, I cherish our fond memories together, preserving them in my heart.
All that I shared with you about my childhood dreams, my first love,
The songs I serenaded you with melodies celebrating nature,
Our endless nights together admiring the stars dancing around the full moon!

I remember how tall you stood. You were so strong,
Like Lebanon’s mountains, amidst our land’s ancient ruins.
Facing the Israeli occupation, you stood with so much pride.
I remember how we rejoiced with family and neighbors during the sweet liberation!

My Dad planted you with his hands, he nurtured you with his love and sweat.
He was so strong and now times have changed him:
He’s grown older, thinner, more fragile, his speech is slurred.
The eyes that once held thousands of untold stories are now dim!

You are part of God’s oath, Noah’s mission with the Ark.
You are a sacred plant, a symbol of love, life, peace, friendship,
And generations of culture passed down.
Your roots run so deep in my Dad’s heart and mind.

I implore you old friend, lighten up my Dad’s golden age with your kind heart,
Lend him support in taking more steps towards life,
Keep his spirit alive so he can continue singing the song of a new life, and
Give him the strength to swing on the porch, to admire you again for each new day and pristine sunrise.

Hussein Dekmak
  Jul 2022 The Young Poet
Robin Wright
From the moment I was born
I knew that I’d be safe
I knew if I was ever lost
you’d help me find my way
you taught me life could be a challenge
you taught me right from wrong
you taught me how to deal with struggles
you taught me to be strong
you taught me how to change a tire
so I wouldn’t be in distress
you taught me to see the good in life
when everything seems a mess
you taught me to play basketball
to be unselfish, and get along with others
you taught me to always give 100%
and to always listen to my mother
you taught me everything I know about sports
you taught me how to win
you taught me to be competitive
you taught me to never give in
you taught me the things I want in life
will never be given for free
to earn whatever my heart desires
is completely up to me
you taught me how to lose with grace
and use that as a tool
to keep on pushing forward in life
and that passion is my fuel
you taught me to treat my fellow man
with the respect that they deserve
and if you thought that I wasn’t listening dad
I heard every single word
you’ve always been my biggest fan
the best friend, a girl could have
thank you for making me who I am
I love you to the moon and back, DAD
  Jul 2022 The Young Poet
when they see this steadfast tree
rising up with strength and spree
trees that see this then realize
but choose to hush and wave their lies
with moving arms and gossip leaves
they choose to blind themselves with ease
but I, this steadfast tree, can not defy
the Blessing descending from the Sky
to honor loneliness and pain
and reward the life I gain
through perseverance and visions
purpose driven through regions.
The Olive tree is a remarkable symbol within the Bible. I made a painting and was inspired to write about it as well. How our lives and the perseverance we have will reward us and honor God one day!
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