Stateless Behind The Fence Poem by Julian Frost Mohammed Shohid

The Rohingya people dwell
within the refugee camps.
Struggling to survive each day,
Countless hardships and pain.

Camps are closed by metal-fences,
It's the cage and open-air prison.
No smell of freedoms, just isolation.
We cannot go beyond these barriers.

Enduring suffering and deprivation.
Like captive parrots with demands,
But no solitons, dignity and tranquility.

Being the owner of the land, Arakan
Yet, declared as refugee, no belongings.
Without a nation to call our own, our future is veiled in darkness.

We grieve not only for ourselves,
But for the generations to come.
That, we remain stateless people,
But we have rich history as masters.

The world treats us as refugees,
Yet many essential rights are lacking.
Still, we don't hope for materialistic,
But we look for justice and dignified lives.

The bamboo-made shelters,
Which are painfully small for families.
Where basic needs hardly meet daily.
Staying in unimaginable condition for years.

Pain whispers through our hearts,
Hopelessness breaks, no peace minds.
Life here is a test of endurance, uncertainties, hardship and sacrifice.

Yet despite the suffering,
we continue hope for better tomorrow.
Braking these stateless and fence,
That serves as our crime while we are victims of Genocide.

By Julian Frost (Mohammed Shohid)