Prayer Of The Refugee

Thoughts and Troubles

Hostage. One word that always scared me. It was hard to think that maybe someday it will be my faith. It was even harder to think that maybe, I'll be killed soon.

It's been forever since I've felt freedom. It's been forever.

I am a refugee.

It's not the type of life a teenage girl would ask for, then again, no one would. It's hard to wake up in a tent, in fear, in doubt, and a mind full of questions begging to be asked.

Every night is sleepless. It's not a challenge to stay awake. And it's not a must to fall asleep. I take a walk every night, my parents knowing this, never tend to get worried. Everyday my parents look at me, and their eyes beg for forgiveness. They did not get us into this mess, they didn't ruin my life. I don't understand why they ask for forgiveness when they are the most innocent.

My life isn't completely ruined, because I still have enough common sense to try to live through the tough situations we face. It's not everyday that you have to abandon your country, but if it happens to come across your path, might as well adapt.

My motto has always been, think, question, and adapt. The question part of my motto sometimes lacks of answers, but nonetheless I follow through on it.

The chilly air was leaving it's marks on my skin as the goosebumps rose. I look up to the sky and see the North Star above.

I follow this star every night I take a walk. The saying, "Follow the North Star when lost, it will lead you home", doesn't work for me. I feel like the North Star doesn't even know where to lead me. It's as if, it has given up on me. It's given up on the hope of finding home. I don't blame it.

I've moved 10 countries and 3 continents in the span of 7 years. It's a lot to go through. When I was younger I was lied to. I wasn't told people bombed our country. I was told my dad received a promotion over seas.

I wasn't even that young to forget everything. I was only ten years old, and I don't know how I couldn't tell that there were people bombing our country with all noise outside of our house.
Then one day, my mom told me they wiped my memory. It sounded crazy to me, and it still does, but it was the only way any of us survived. They wiped my memory so I could live a normal life. I never realized how wiping a child's memory could help her forget what has happened, when a week later she is put into a refugee camp. Even a 4 year old wouldn't be fooled.

If they thought I would have a normal life, normal isn't what I am living right now. I am running away from problems and issues, and it's unfair. I can't solve my own problems, when I really desire to do so. I have to push them away hoping they don't come back to haunt me.

I look up at the North Star feeling the heat of tears in my eyes.

"It's unfair." I say my thoughts out loud.

I blink away the tears and keep walking. Moving forward was all we were told to do. Stopping once in while wasn't a thought in our minds anymore.

It was still on my mind however. I tried to appreciate every country we were deployed to. It was a form of traveling the world, but always being on the lookout, with your life on the line.

Being bored with my surroundings, I reached into my jacket pocket and sifted through the things inside.

I've had this jacket for 2 years now. I picked it up in Canada, and I've been in love with it ever since.

I keep a lot of stuff in my pockets, but today, there were the usual things.

A packet of gum, my wallet, a pocket knife, a lighter, and a playing card. Not just any playing card, but the Ace of Spades.