Her womb was my heaven,
She carried me for nine months,
Endured my innocent but painful kick and pushes,
Hoyo natured me before I even witnessed the light of this earth,
Hoyo carried me with pride,
Loved and pampered me,
Even before I could utter a word of my desires, hoyo fulfilled all of it.
Now, hoyo’s feet are tired,
Swollen from walking bare foot on the rough and unpaved path of the refugee camps,
She runs around frantically trying to feed feeble bodies,
She tries to uplift broken souls of my siblings and I,
She wakes up at dawn to fetch water from the wall,
She gets in line to acquire food to feed us,
My hoyo’s pride is shattered,
I can see the smiles she flashes when all she really wants to do is cry,
Hoyo is getting tired of this hassle,
Of this life,
She is humiliated,
The pride and happiness she once possessed is long gone,
I stare at the stars, trying to figure for answers to my questions,
Questions like why hoyo’s eyes are dark?
Why is her body so fragile?
Why are the smell of unsi's no longer present in the house?
Why did hoyo forget to tuck us in bed?
....My 10 year old mind fails to fathom any answers as to why hoyo constantly forgets to water the plants,
smell the roses,
find reasons to kiss my forehead,
braid my hair,
My hoyo hasn't been herself lately,
Could the echo of the guns be the reason?
She smiles, when she wants to cry
Prays when she is ready to give up
And although, she once walked gracefully, with a gawk only famed by her, hoyo now stoops carrying heavy load left on her,
The struggle continues even across ocean,
Hoyo gets up early in the morning and extends her hand so we can survive,
I wonder if the heartfelt smile on my hoyo's face will ever return,
Will I ever have my old hoyo back....
Without all the poverty, injustices and cruelness society thrusts upon refugee mothers...
Halima A Ahmed