I start having nightmares before the beginning of any war.
During my sleep, I remember my sisters and brothers,
who played, smiled, loved, and were loved before.
I remembered my mother and the rest of the mothers.
During my sleep, I thought of my school,
the kindergarten and the friends of my niece.
I thought of my swing, my toys and the big pool.
I realized I would miss living free in peace!
The war waged, and I saw what no one has seen.
In front of me, they got ready for the battle.
They brought tanks, guns and an F16.
With hate, they were rushing just like a cattle.
Guns made in East and West pointed at me.
I saw no birds, but warplanes flying over the skies,
bombing, not caring about a he or a she.
I saw blood, felt sorrow and heard cries.
They destroyed my family home,
burnt my books and broke my pen.
They murdered my brother’s spouse,
and threatened to **** me again and again.
Black smokes surrounded me from everywhere.
Big explosions hitting here and there sounded.
Toys broken on the ground, balloons flying in air.
Despair spread, fear planted, hatred rounded.
Despite the war, I raised my hands and prayed,
that I get back to my home where I played,
that peace come and never be delayed,
and that my freedom will never ever fade!
Mohammed Arafat
15-01-2019
This poem is the experience of every child found her/himself in a war waged by merciless decision makers all round the world.
