Within us, we have much to express but little to say. And that's us in front of our Papa God. Inside us, we carry pain, but still smiling, waiting for the brand new day. Still us with our God. We feel dead but still breathing. Hope to come alive one day as a gift given by the God above all. If talking too much was one of the ways to be understood, I wish I were the bat where only the darkness will make me shut my mouth. What if laughing with others meant friendship? Then I'd rather hide my smile for the sake of my peace of mind. And what if dying were the only way to make humankind forget? I pray to live for the eternity that I'll be able to enjoy the memory that made me happy and learn from the lesson life taught me. There will come a day when the sun and the moon will like to live together. But the space is too big to let them meet and the world too small to let them shine at once. And we have nothing to gripe about cause that's life.

I am not just a refugee. I am not the tent you see, not a number on a paper. I am a daughter of the soil, a son of burning street. I carried my country in a small bag, folded between chart and tears. They burned my house but not my voice. They chased my body but not my dreams. I walk with scars but I walk forward. Call me refugee, also call me survivor.