I’m escaping from my Land
with children
with the baggage of torment in hand
with a sick mother in my head
in a burning house
in the grave of ancestors
incinerated

I run away blinded by fire
stunned by the howl of sirens
by bombing raid of hate

in compartments and on tracks
death validates tickets
without mercy one by one
takes its toll
from the waiting room of life

I run further
to breathlessness
with children with the baggage of hope