Who is that little girl that runs away,
When her country has gone astray,
And when she is grateful to live another day.
The little girl that doesn’t know when her next meal will be,
She leaves behind a family, she may never again see.
How does it feel to be in the devastation,
When you are reading about it from another nation.
Comfortable and warm thinking, “what a situation.”
You go back into your warm bed, feeling guilty about your elation.
But what about the refugees that have come before?
It’s not like this has been the only war.
Those who run, whose skin is darker in color,
Do they not have the right to live like their white brother?
Why are some welcomed and some turned away,
Just because of skin pigmentation, there is nothing more to say.
The little girl keeps wondering what her life has in store,
The missiles keep coming, more and more.
There is always hope in a young child’s mind,
They tend to move forward and not rewind.
Someday this will be a memory, and hopefully she will be grown,
to live peacefully, most likely in a land unknown.
As I sit at my desk, the sun shining through the window and my violet and pink cyclamen plants glistening in the sun, I think about how beautiful the word could be. Could, being the modal verb of choice, which means “possibility.” The gorgeous sun shining, flowers blooming, it is clear that spring has sprung.
Then you turn on the news and see the devastation in Ukraine. I just read in the New York Times that in North Korea, another horrible dictator Kim Jung-un has done more nuclear and ICBM tests. In Italian they say, “pure questo ci voleva?” The sense would be in English, as far as I can translate it is “we really needed this now?.” What is the world coming to?
I am the aunt of two beautiful nieces. What kind of world are they being raised in? What kind of world awaits them for when they are grown? What are we leaving behind for them to thrive in? Misery? War? Fear?
I am lucky to be sitting in this apartment with only myself to care for. It is a privilege to be born in countries where it is relatively comfortable, and compared to other nations, you want for nothing. It is a privilege. I think we take these liberties for granted, and in light of the current situation in the world, I would say that living in peace without threat is truly a privilege.
I like to express myself with writing, music, and theater. These art forms have helped me the darkest times of my life. Those who say that the arts or arts education is a waste of time need to be reminded that during the height of quarantine, what did people turn to for solace? Some kind of entertainment. Some kind of art. Life without art is no life at all in my view. Poetry and writing is a great way to express feelings. As John Lennon sings, “All we are saying, is give peace a chance.”
NYC times link to the article I cited in the text
Video give peace a chance. I do not own the rights to this video.