pictured words

They come
from distant lands,
escaping war,
famine, natural disaster,
unlivable conditions, persecution,
economic instability, etc.

They arrive
carrying whatever they can.
Perhaps a photo or two.
A key to a house
that may no longer exist.
Only the clothes on their backs.

One very dear Syrian friend had to leave
suddenly.  Flee. 
Her family,
in the middle of a meal,
left pots and plates of food
years ago.

Ukrainian friends we now consider family
arrived with one school-type backpack
for their family of four. 
Yes, you read that correctly.
Some aren’t even that lucky.

Dowla chose one item to bring:
A wooden pole, balanced on her shoulders,
with which to carry
her six children
when they tired of the 10-day walk from Sudan
to a refugee camp in South Sudan.

Aboubacar fled Mali on a donkey cart
with his wife and two children. 
The one item he chose to bring?
His goat.
“The goat brings me hope, joy, and a sense
that things can change for the better.”

After dealing with several months of air raids,
Magboola and her three children finally left Sudan
the night soldiers came and opened fire.
The most important item she chose to carry:
a small cooking pot.
It could be easily carried,
and used to feed her children.

102-year-old Omar is blind. 
His item of choice was his lati
(his walking stick). 
“If I hadn’t had my lati,
I would have crawled to Bangladesh.”
The situation in the village he loved,
yet had to flee,
was dire. 
The journey,
unimaginably hard.
A quote I relish from him is this:
“If you laugh, others will laugh with you.
And if you stop laughing, you will die.”

Elizabeth fled war in Angola.
52 years later, she still struggles
with the feeling of not having a real home.
The one item she still has with her
is her Bible.
“In this world, bad things happen,
but in the Bible you can find words which help you.”

The stories
are endless
unimaginable
heartbreaking
staggering
awe-inspiring.

The people
are strong
courageous
thankful
giving
hopeful,
in spite of it all.

It is my honor and great blessing
to look into the eyes of those
I am privileged to personally know.
To hear their stories.
See their smiling eyes. 
Feel their arms around me.
Their kisses on my cheeks.
To taste their food.
Receive their time
and their love. 

THEY
are life-enriching. 

© Marie Elena Good 2025

(Stories of those I don’t personally know are from UNHRC. The photo I chose is from Pexels.com.)