Hope.

Source: Humans OF New York
Source: Humans Of New York

We put out our homes- those rolled up bedding
Made of ragged clothes, torn paper, and damp cardboard.
Hopefully, things will be better where we are heading,
Leaving behind our homes, our jobs, our Ford.
Till now, our feet have swollen and are sore,
From walking uncountable miles, to destinations unknown.
Beaten, bullied, tortured to the core,
It’s sufferings that our eyes will shine and have shone.
We fight for a can of water and a morsel of bread,
And there’s hardly any fire to keep us warm,
Hearts went cold from when we saw the river red
Wet the streets used to the dry desert storms.
Memories of all the war grapple us like crabs
Our dreams and nightmares, all woven into one.
You peer in curiosity at the wounds that haven’t even dried yet-scabs.
Relating what we have gone through will leave you stunned.
We come and go, all scarred faces,
We come to strange lands to escape our owns
We come overladen in boats that run in races,
Some of us also drown in the sea lie stones.
Then we may wash up on the sea and you will be horrified,
To see the state the world have come to.
To see brothers kill brothers, to see friends who’ve died,
To see those who have suffered and those who got through.
We may not have a future and we have eradicated our past,
There is not much we can do for our dears.
We are broken and helpless and tired and wouldn’t last
If it weren’t for the hope that’s greater than fear.