She Speaks We Hear

Bringing women's voices together, unaltered, unadulterated

No One Can See You

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Image courtesy of Oxfam International, featuring Limar  who was born on 3 August the first child of Liqaa (shown) and Bassel who currently live in Zaatari camp.

 

Every stranger. Every person. Every human. Every hair. Every contour. Every wrinkle. Every ignorant line.

She searched their faces in earnest, would it be him, could it be him, could it be them.

What was it that drove them to such cowardice  and evil?

She was afraid. The fear could be seen on her face, in her shoulders, in her hesitant stride.

Looking forward,  yet afraid. No longer safe in the space that she had called her own. The space she had been proud of, the space she wanted to share with love. Her conscious thoughts resisted the screaming in her heart. Screaming, searing pain.

Sickness

Vomiting

Retching

Pain

Anger

Hate

Hate

She felt hate

She felt despair, despair made her sick. Her rights were no longer her own. She owned nothing.

Not even a voice. A  voice that had retracted and recoiled and curled up like a foetus, as it had been asphyxiated. The pain had killed it. The pain, the greed, the hate, the evil, the greed, the hate, the hate, the pain.

No one can see you . No one can hear you. If you scream I`ll strangle you.

No one can see the colour of your dreams. They see only the colour of your scarf and that you are prey.

Peregrine Falcon

You are prey, to be torn, limb from limb, sinew from sinew, as I pick apart the dreams of your ancestors. The blood coursing in your veins is not the colour of mine. You don’t deserve me. Tell me why, should your pain be healed, your children educated, your hearts operated upon by me, because,

I am a Syrian refugee.

By Anon

Image courtesy of Oxfam International via Flickr   

Disclaimer: the opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the original author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the website.
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Author: She Speaks We Hear

Bringing women’s voices together, unaltered, unadulterated. Platforming stories and experiences of Muslim women, so they can own their narrative.

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