My life may sound incredible
but it's all I've known, or seen
the camp cultivated this tarnished soul,
that I can now afford to clean.
I ponder the dearth of my former life.
where a dollar made a man rich.
still in the dark in my American home,
with no hope to find the switch.
Still trapped in my mind after 5 years,
I can't seem to make a friend.
they send me to therapy every week,
though my soul is too broken to mend.
My thoughts don't float to Nepal
because the camp wasn't home to me.
I don't exist they told me once,
I fight it, but can't disagree.
13 years no bread, just rice
I stole, I cheated, I thrived?
My life would have continued this way
until at last, in camp, I died.
13 years of sharp solitude
diminished my stature and call.
though still lonely, I carve my path
because I once had no path at all.
-
Author:
PACollin (
Offline) - Published: October 25th, 2017 23:28
- Comment from author about the poem: I met a young man from a refugee camp in Nepal where he lived for the first 13 years of his life. Nepal didn\\\'t recognize him or his people as citizens. He had no family. His story is powerful. This is a snippet.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 26
Offline)
Comments2
Very deep. Hopefully he's found his path to a better tomorrow
The hope is HOPE itself!
He’s optimistic and hopeful.
He will carve a better path
to a better tomorrow!
Love and prayers are with him!
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