The Scars of War

I had a past
A past that was full of love and pride
In my poverty, I was still happier
I had a home, a house, land to own and to protect
A farm to cultivate and a plan for the future.

In our village, we once lived a beautiful life
Among cherished friends and family
Each morning, we visited the coffee farms at the back of our homes
Under berry fruits trees, we played like death never existed
Each afternoon we went to the river to swim in a blast, blissfully
Our future was blight, hopeful and determined.

Suddenly, this all vanished in thin air
One early morning, we were told to run for our lives
Criminals were coming after us with guns and ammunition
Little did it dawn on us that we were not to return for a long time
And there we were running knowing nowhere to go
Our steps were fast, our hearts panted, beating faster than our steps.

As we journeyed through the land
Not knowing why we were escaping or where we were going
We crossed rivers, lost in meadows and bends deep into unknown forests
Finally, we arrived at a town where life was to begin
A place, where our hearts felt the first scars of the war.

Days, weeks, months, and years were counted
There was no sign of return
Our hearts longing and nostalgic
We got labeled, insulted and we had no choice
This could only make sense under the scars of war.

Since waiting was longer than expected,
We got schooled
Some move to cities and others to camps
Still, others left in villages where they could survive
No choice was perfect and no choice will ever seem perfect
We all painfully swallowed the pains from the scars of war.

Our scars of war were everywhere:
The hunger, the thirst, and the hardship
As if this is not enough
We were pieced through the soul inner ward
with the sword of rejections
Our scars of war were lasting forever.

Years passed, our scars were still visible
In our hearts, on our names, and on our person
We carried identities calling us Refugees
A word I learned without being told the meaning
or check it up in the dictionary
we were making sense under the scars of war.

In this long hurt of our souls and being
Our memories never stonewashed
For each day that arrived, we were more nostalgic than the previous
Then came another war
This time, both the citizens and we had to run for our lives
And they too knew what it means to be a refugee.

We were all broken mentally
New scars added, both physical and mental
We jumped on dead bodies, decayed bodies
We saw birds, dogs, and cats feeding on human corpses
The carnage caused by greed and lusts
The scars of war, seen and felt within and without.

The sun was hot, the camp was high
and everyone was helter-skeltered
We were on our way back home
War was over and the time to return was ripe
We were happy but unprepared
As we still carry with us the scar of war.

Back home, all we saw was the remnant of once cherished homes
Old, faded, stained with blood from the war
Some homes have grown timber trees large enough to form forestlands
The once hailed and revered land now lay in ruin
The scars of war are physical, mental, and visible.

Daily, we will walk through the ruin
Citizens, children grown up in refugee were busy
rebuilding the remnant of their parents
their parents, old and weak, there sit to narrate the beautiful past
the past is only felt inner ward; the scars of the war clung.

The patching land was recovering but hardship was too much
Many of us left for a foreign land where life could seem greener
And there I was among those who journey to distant lands
There too, there was war and destruction
But in the middle of all this new life, we survived and succeeded.

Built upon this success, again I traversed to a strange land
A land devastated by war and long-standing conflict
As I sit in the car passing through the main streets
I saw again the scars of war
In every land, the scars of war are the same:
Poverty, hunger, and ruins.

Today, while in this foreign land
I see a semblance of my home
Buildings regardless of their beauty and value
Lies in ruin
There I sat, thinking through
As the scars of war became fresh in my mind
Tears, helpless tears drain my checks
And there I sat imagining, war is man’s enemy number 1
And its scars, last for life.