I have no refuge, for I am a refugee,
Where I come from, there is no place for me,
Leaving everything behind,
A better place, I’ll try to find,
I must find a refuge.

Sneaking through the battlefield,
Where friends were lost and family killed,
Through the panic and disorder,
I slip across the deadly border,
I have to find a refuge.

In the backs of trucks, in dark and cold,
With many others young and old,
With little air or food or water,
Ever further from the slaughter,
Yet this is not a refuge.

​

Tired and lost, we reached a camp,
Our limbs were numb, our bodies stank,
In a crowd, yet all alone,
Thinking always about home,
I wish this was a refuge.

A tiny boat tossed on huge waves,
Amid cries of fear, will we be saved?
Past giant ships, we’re sinking fast,
Is that the shore I see at last?
Will I find a refuge?

Finally the crunch of sand,
We drag ourselves upon the land,
First shouting, animosity,
then blankets and a cup of tea,
Could this be a refuge?
Or am I still a refugee?