I saw her wandering between the worshipers' lines
Not more than 6 years old, I asked her: 'where's your dad?'
Not saying a single word she pointed to the man near the door
One man of more than a million of refuges searching for his family a safer shore
Coming down the stairs of the mosque, the poor child tripped and fell
Echo of her screaming drew in the air burned houses and massacred children
Nostalgia for her home land flickered through her tears
Tell me..what's good in a life of a torn innocence that is so full of fears?
(I've written this for children's day (or the International Day for Protection of Children) which is today. It is about a Syrian girl. She has a father, a mother and two brothers all are Syrian refuges. In the neighborhood we try to help them with what we could, but no one can ever give you what's like your home.)
