Refugee Monologue

I entered one. Hundreds of bodies laying scattered on the ground. The chills of the night floating through the air as these brand new settlers rested peacefully at basecamp. Some of them hadn’t even heard of the country they were presently fast asleep in; others having only heard stories of such place. However, they all shared the same goal; to escape. They fought for their future, for their children, and for their lives. On a grueling journey - one I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy.

Not all survive. Not all survive. My mind repeats continuously in a mesmerising chant. My brain struggling to process the many horrors these people have encountered.

As the sun slowly rose above the many rows of tents at basecamp; migrants began venturing outside, in search of donated food and water. The screams of babies crying fused together with the early morning birds sing song cultivate a strange sound that echoed all through out the camp.

Painting the picture that these people were living a regular life.

As if. I think to myself as I watch a small line of 9 people slowly growing to a lineup of over a hundred. Dozens of families crowded together, eagerly waiting for their ration of food.

As I walk around observantly in desperate search of a person to interview, a young woman approaches me. She takes careful steps, noticeably anxious as she gets closer. Her head facing down while her young one pulls at her sleeve. Her hair is covered by a once bright blue, now dull blue scarf. Lifting her head, her eyes meet mine. Like her once bright blue scarf, her eyes are a piercing sapphire. Struggling to find the right words she begins pointing at my backpack.

Tissue.” She repeats.

I rifle through my bag tossing out wrappers and empty water bottles, realizing I have no tissues left inside.

I look back at the woman, her infant still clinging onto her