Inside Out Narrative Poem

Who am I?

I am a girl who’s name Awira

 

I am Muslim, not Christian

I am Kurdish, not Turkish

I am a minority, not the majority

And i’m an extraordinary, not an ordinary.

 

When I was young, I went to school

I played in the park,

And jumped rope in the dark

Everything was so peaceful.

 

I played on the swings with my friends

Singing and chanting in the rain,

Trying to gain as much fun as we can.

 

At the age of 11, Everything tends to change.

It’s when my future has been shaped into darkness.

 

My home country, Hasakah, used to be a peaceful place, 

has sunk inexplicably in sadness.

 

Gloomy, murky and shadowy.

 

A place full of architecture is now full of corpses covered with blood.

 

During studying math

Teacher was asking

If  9 multiplied by 0 equal to 0

What will be the answer of  9 divided by 0?

 

Instantly, the principal appeared to be in front of us

Shaking, horrifying and distressing

exclaimed that,

Turkish is now invading our country.

 

We were all running away 

Just like baby chicks trying to find their mama

Weeping and screaming for our parents

Within the feeling of anxiety.

 

Brother Afran emerged out of nowhere

Dashing towards me, 

Seizing me by the arm and whispered, 

We have to run away!

 

The Sound of bombing and shouting in the distance,

triggering the public outcry and many people to escape. 

A bomb was exploded right in the middle of the city,

Causing chaos all over the places.

 

Helicopters were circling and circling above my two sensitive ears.

Every building, especially the taller one, were demolished 

Sister Arya and I was traumatized 

By witnessing our mama was murdered in cold blood.

 

Fleeing my home to United States is unimaginable. 

But guess what, today, 

Just made me realize that

Nothing is impossible.

 

As we arrived in Florida

Everything seems peculiar and unusual

English are used all over the places

It just seems like my first day entering school.

 

we’re being discriminated against

because we’re muslim

Who dress distinctively 

Who eat different food

And who speak different languages.

 

Living in a new place isn’t easy, 

but living without a mama is even more difficult

My mama who used to do all the duties

Who used to lighten up our day 

And who used to heal our heart, is now invisible from this world.

 

I can barely envision how it feels like to be at home again.

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