REFUGEE POEM - By: Madeleine

I come from a place called Kyrgyzstan.
Kyrgyzstan is located in China and is near Russia.
I was arrested
Put in jail in Kyrgyzstan,
Because of political reason.

I come from a place where I was a musician.
I was a professional
Playing in the orchestra as a refugee I couldn’t get a job.

I come from a place I had to leave.
I had to leave my hometown;
I had never lived anywhere else
So it was like a dark room I had never entered before.

I came to a place called London.
I came to a place so magical
That it made my old hometown look like an unpolished pot.
But this place looked polished and brand new
I had a new life and I was excited.

I came to a place where I was called a refugee.
I didn’t know what the word me so when I was called “refugee”
It scared me,
I didn’t what to think.

I came to a place where people spoke English
I never knew what anyone was saying
Because did not speak their language. I started going to school to learn English.
Then I started understanding what people were saying
and English came to me like it was my own language.

I came to a place I was not accepted.
I came to a place that I now fit into.
I now live in a place where I belong.

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I am from a Chance-Zsuzsa

I Am From a Chance-Zsuzsa
By Sasha


I am from a clamor of voices,
So many different nationalities
Multi-ethnic Yugoslavia,
Its rolling green hills,pastures of livestock,
When the Serbs, the Hungarians
Resided together in peace
Not caring about their differences
I am from growing up
Causing the realization
That nationalities did make a difference
Hit me like a bullet

I am from interacting with new people, times and places,
Especially my husband
And my proud college graduation,
My children, and the horror
Of war

I'm from traveling to Croatia
Where in the picturesque
Yet deceiving landscape
A war broke out
And we were unable to return to our country
I am from friends
Who helped us in our
Eventual return to Hungary
And the beautiful
But somehow inconceivable
Thought of life returning
To how it used to be

I am from the shock of Quarantine
The odor of sweat and decay
Of too many bodies
In too small a space
The sound of the harsh voices
Piercing us like knives
The feel of cold icy bunks
Digging into our skin.

I am from our release into Hungary
The feeling of finally escaping
Dimmed by the abominable and unavoidable
Life in the Refugee Camp
Where my children did not speak
Of their nationality
If they could help it

I am from the hope
Induced by the offer of a job
Educating and bonding
Children of all different nationalities and ages
Giving them the strength they needed so desperately



I am from the pride
Of being able to repair
The wrongs of the people before me
As if slowly stitching together
The remnants of the hearts
That were crudely torn apart
By the cruelty of Quarantine

I am from the delight and honor
Of the ability to
Save a boy from a horrible fate
And sparing his education
As it slowly dissolved into nothingness

I am from being given a chance
And helping others from
Leaving their futures
Lying in the dust

Where I'm From Poem: Assumani

Where I’m From: Assumani
By Sophia

I am from a large family, the youngest of seven.

I am from South Kivu Province. From the mountains and the all-too-familiar forests that encircle the lake I once swam in.

I am from my father’s death and the gun shots on my country’s soil, which forced me to leave.

I am from arriving home to a locked empty house that my family had fled from, leaving me in a sea of people, pushing and shoving; trying to escape.
From feeling truly abandoned, and alone.
From spending hours calling to my family, even though deep down, I knew they were already gone.

I am from having to leave my home wondering, did I abandon my country? Or did it abandon me?
I am from running for nine months, fleeing through six different countries, none of them feeling like home.
From unfamiliar places and people.

Now I am from a foster family, and a new home.
From nice people, and peace.
From finally being able to stop running, but I do worry that someday my fears will catch up to me.
For now I, Assumani, am from South Africa.

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

Noah
1-15-09

King Dickson: Life of a Refugee

I am from getting half a bag of rice for two people
Oil and beef and beans monthly

From not having any supervision
At the refugee camp

I am from cutting down
Firewood to make money

From having been given a knife
To kill my father

From settling into a refugee camp
For six years

I am from escaping from Liberia
With complete strangers

From not trying to escape
Because if I did
The rebels would cut off my ears

From the rebels bursting into my house
And beating us

I am from going to Lola
To start high school

I went back to the camp
To finish high school

I am from hopes and dreams
Of becoming a doctor
And giving my country what it lacks

Where I'm From: Cecilia

Where I'm From: Cecelia

by Francesca

I am from the sunny, flat plains of Sudan
feet hitting the ground and fists clenched
my parent's surreal death etched into my mind forever
terror and sadness propelling me forward, to Belgium

I am from one fateful night
the police raid shattering the silence as I slept
panic turning my blood cold as I was driven to the detention center
chained helplessly to my roommate as the stars shone through the clouds

I am from a crowded dark room
the presence of twenty others closing in on me
I am from the dread of going back to Sudan
sickening and constant, eating away at my health

I am from animal-like treatment, cruel and unforgiving
bending to fix my shoe earning me a harsh shove from the guard
my head slamming into the cold tile floor
anger tightening my throat and clouding my vision

I am from a court full of distrustful strangers
salty tears drowning out my words
living again in Belgium without papers
everything distorted by fear

“I just want to be somewhere and continue with my life
and to form another family because right now
I don't have anyone anymore.”