Monstrous sounds and bright flashes all about me.
So long I've lived in the roar and fire of war. I have seen my friends and family blown apart daily. I have stretched a crust of bread over three days. I have touched the tepid water to my burnt parched lips and hoarded it to the last vapor of it.
Now, kind people have brought me, fleeing from this hell I've grown to call normal, to a calm quiet place where the sounds, sights and smells won't pummel me from dusk to dark.
My soul finds time to take a deep breath--but wait. What is the anger here? What is the distrust? What is the fear? Not all are welcoming me. I'm alone in a sea of people like me--with accusing wary eyes looking back at me. I am not guilty of the atrocities. I am a person just like you. I mean you no harm.
Can you not share your peace with me? May I be allowed to have rest from the fiery storms that were my life?
Does your God not have children of all lands?
I know. This is not my land.
by JL Bailey
20 Nov 2015
Message Thread
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