On a bright cool Thursday morning
I heard rapid footsteps
Come from where I had gone
To see what fight might have been happening
I lived in town for the last two years
All my property was enough to make me proud
They broken through doors of people
Looted, burnt what they didn’t like
Destroyed what meant to my people
My room was not broken since I left it open
The glass furniture and all that I called mine
Laid down in particles and pieces
After the whole four months I spent in a refugee camp
A few who came back to foresee of their property
Never came back to the camp
Fear was what I valued to save my life
For war started from the town centre
Where we had all our might to survival
Where beautiful women made business
Where new age youth found bread and bed
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice one... sounds memorial