Zsuzsa by Emma

I am from white stone work
Dusty roads
The scent of bougainvilleas wound around the trellis in the courtyard

I am from seeing the cobblestone vanish beneath me
From watching a baby bird take flight
and from seeing my freedom

I see the way of my life
A giant web intercepted by others
My family my friends

I am from the savory aroma of stuffed peppers
The smell of my pencil shavings
I sit cramped in my small school desk

I’m from the feeling of strength the earth emanates
From dancing fires
and
Laughing children

I am from my hopes to become a school teacher
From watching the proud eyes of my family
When I reached that goal

I’m from watching my husband rush to Hungry
From escaping the war
and hearing many languages spat from neighbor neighbors

I will never be from the frightful journey to the camp, my family by my side
Or the iron bed of quarantine
Being treated like I was something nasty to wipe off a shoe
Or the taste of food that’s not like home

Never will I savor the house made from canvas
The clingy crowded stench of sweat and fear
From seeing my freedom from beyond my reach, like a caged bird, longing to be let loose

I will bind up my thoughts and release them into the wind, the world must engulf
I will shackle the sights and let them flow into the waters
I will imprison the sounds and burn them to ashes

3 years went by,
Our only hope is Australia
As our dreams falter we settle in Hungary
At night we still watch for the sunrise of returning home

I will always be from my mothers good cooking
My child’s small laugh
and the nights of telling stories by the fire