It was the first time.
The first time I saw my father weeping.
His body was quivering.

It was the last time.
The last time I saw my mother & sister.
They left forever.

The journey had just begun.
I was feeble, force less, fragile.

I saw flames.
The horrid flames.

A truckload of children.
Once juvenile.
Now burned to ashes.

All happened so sudden.
The separation of my mother and sister.
The illness of my father.

I watched.
I watched my father die.
No candle lit in his memory, no prayer said over his tomb.

No mercy.
No God.
Just isolation.

I was left in solitary.
In the desert of life.
But it did not scare me.

I emerged stronger.