Bullet shell casings, littered all around the grounds,
rushing by our ears
like empty swings swinging back and forth,
As we run through from them.
Boom!
Loud thunderclaps of missiles touching the grounds of this forest
that I try to call it home.
Running for my life and my family’s life,
protecting my children and wife so that we can live to see another day.
I hold the gun to my chest
as if it is my saviour.
Always looking back if they were behind us,
zero, no soldiers following.
Always looking back to check if everyone is here.
One, two, three, four, five, six, and seven.
Yes, wife and children are still here.
We move forward into the forest,
hoping to find refuge in a safe place
but knowing that no place is ever safe.
Holding on to fear because that is all we know.
There are more families like us,
scattered like marbles dropped.
Where are the Americans?
We helped them but where was our guaranteed safety?
They left us,
Someone whispered.
They’ve given up the war.
Fear riding in the eyes of my family.
Questions running through my mind,
Where to next?
How to survive?
Is there any place safe anymore?
I lead my family through the highs and lows of this forest,
camped when the children become too tired.
But never more than a night’s rest
because fear lives around every bend and corner of this forest.