In the summer of June 2009
I still remember wide pants I wore.
Holding my pack with left hand,
Standing alone a part from others
Thanking a bout the journey and other thing of image
It isn’t easy leaving where you grow up.
The place you can truly love
I felt my self a murdered because the shames
Saying goodbye to weeping faces made me sensitive.
The song of the birds is great, but the pain I felt the smell of the rich soil disappear.
The voice I heard was my grandma repeating one sentence. “Remember the great expectation of your people, and they are waiting for you and words hold the words into Quran”
Now it is the time
I tried to move my self, but my legs were stuck the floor I sanded.
As a dream I found my self flaying up in the sky like a bird without wings.
Before my eyes I sow the most beautiful city, shimmering lights, Wondered if it was real or a dream.
The color of the building was gray, but the inside has more color then I know.
The room we come was good and the smell of the garden behind the room took away all my pain.
The clock stack one seven, I didn’t remember the kids I used to play when the clock stack one seven.
But know I’m just set a dark house which is covered the entire window.
A couple of later I was ready to start a new house in my new house.
I feel physically my entire body was burned in my fast day in school.
To make a long story a short,
And I know one day I will visit to my grandma.