A Syrian Refugee From Jordan's Zaatari camp
As I lay here, on my bed,
in a foreign land
far from Sammie
my teddy bear
under a tent,
instead of nice decorative ceiling
with a fan in the middle,
an aperture on the wall exposed to a space
capturing
sun
scorching skins,
food scarce,
water in short supply,
flies hovering over
sewage,
nasty smell
from a nearby toilet
not flushed,
school no trace
out of minds
This is harsh,
indeed,
a hell to live with .
At night
a crazy fear overwhelms my soul,
preventing me
sleeping a wink
cause a thug regime at any moment,
vindictively will
bombard us
from the borders
or maybe Shabiha
Its cold machine
will sneak in under the cover of darkness
to rape and stab our little bellies.
