Friday, October 8, 2010


We don´t drink tea under the mango tree anymore, Deeqa

We don´t whisper secrets to each others ears, my sweet sister.

War ended laughter and play

killed our childhood

and the innocence from us

threw us on different sides of the world

filled our minds with worries.

And now when we phone each other

all we do is yearn the miss of our mother land

and cry the dead loved ones.

Everything is shadowed by worry and loss.

Or then we laugh and remember

the late adolescence

the evenings under the higlo trees

when all the work was done.

And when remembering this

we sigh

wishing we were young again.

There is nothing bad with remembering

my little sister, my darling

But how can we ever attach to the countries

that we now live in,

how can we ever build a future,

if all we do is live in the past.

The countries that we have settled in

may have pushed us away

more than closed us in embrace;

thrown water and snow

against our faces.

But we have made it my sweet sister

and we must thank Allah for that

we are able to live in peace

and our children have the opportunity

to educate themselves

for children are the future, Deeqa,

and they can rebuild our country again.

So we shall look to the future, my sister,

for the past has been deprived from us for ever

and looking there leaves us

only with bitter fruit.

Johanna Syren

Copyright © 2010

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