A little girl
at the foot of the hill
mother asked her
pick up some wood and broken branches
the house is cold
the babies are shivering
need some warmth
the little girl hid behind trees
eyes wide with fear
making sure
no one saw her
the tall fat men with big guns
and shoes that made squeaky sounds
she was in luck
broken branches everywhere
lots of wood
from the storm last night
she was happy she smiled
babies will be warm
she turned around to face home
stopped in her tracks
heart missed several beats
Where was home?
She ran and she ran
Couldn’t stop black smoke billowing
flames eating away at life
stack of broken branches fell down
leaves and brambles stuck in her hair
smoke stung her eyes
she fell into a heap
next to the tree
The big man with squeaky shoes
was walking towards her
she wasn’t afraid anymore
he prodded her with the rifle
she stared at the dying embers
she wasn’t afraid anymore
he pushed her with his big boot
‘’go home’’ he shouted
she looked at him and the dying embers
‘’home’’? she thought
she pushed away the rifle and stared him straight in the eye Not afraid anymore
Gharib ul watan 