Syrian Refugee

Alan Kurdi, 3 year old Syrian boy.

Home is where the heart is. Home is where you rest your head at night on a soft pillow, happy and warm. Home is where your family is, where you feel the most loved. We should feel safe at home, right?

For a refugee the concept of home is lost. Home is where you rest your head -with chest constricting fear that you'll be waking up to shrapnel, again. The place where your family is - and could no longer be tomorrow. The place where any happiness you knew was taken away, shredded and used to stuff back into your throat until you choked on your own blood as your baby boy was pulled from the rubble and left in an ambulance, forgotten. He knows nothing except the torment the world has taught him, a home that doesn’t want him.

The daily grind magnifies our personal issues and shrinks everyone else, pushes them into the periphery till you can justify your lack of concern. Sometimes it’s necessary to see, to really see, instead of just pass by and ignore what’s going on around us.

Yes, it makes us uncomfortable and it makes us sad. That sadness you feel when you see that precious little boys dead body lying lump in the water reminds you of compassion, of love, of what it means to be a human. It’s by seeing the darkness that we can really appreciate the light. 

As Martin Luther King Jr said, “darkness cannot drive out darkness only light can do that, hate cannot drive out hate only love can do that.”

Dear Mom and Dad,

Thank you for giving me the best life you could.

I know it was hard, especially with a young boy to look out for. 

I know you were scared. I was really scared too. But you knew that..you’re my family..thanks for trying to be strong for me. I don’t know what it means to be strong, the bombs and the guns are all I know. 

Thank you for holding me while I slept, thank you for trying to keep me safe. 

Thanks for my clothes and for shelter and for my food.

When the boat fell over the water surrounded me and I couldn’t see anything or hear anything and I didn’t know what to do. Im sorry I didn’t try harder, I just didn’t know how to.

I’ll look out for you from here.

I miss you Mom and Dad.

Love from your son.

NB: I've taken a creative license on the letter, it is not written by Alan or anyone related to him and is not intended to cause offence in any way, shape or form. It's written for the purpose of exploring the perspective of a young child who was an unfortunate casualty in a war ridden country.

-evieroo