Dispatches from Quarantine:
Young People on Covid-19

The Survival

There is a poem in this place
Where Aung Sa Suu wasn’t the person we thought
As she got elected to be the president of Myanmar we waited for the country to get better
As a leader she only cared for some of her people
While the Rohingya people suffered for nearly a century
We only felt bitter while others felt sweet

There is a poem in this place
In the destitute camps of Rohingya
Where a child and mother’s cries alike
Go unheard
There is a poem in this place
Where you’re afraid to live in your own place
Where women get raped left and right
Where children starve
Where freedom is an unknown word

There is a poem in this place
Where men and women escaped
Some went to Malaysia, some went to Bangladesh, some went to China
Thousands of people died while running
There are uncountable casualties
Houses burned
People being tortured to death
The Bangladesh government is frustrated at the millions of refugees living in the country
Repatriation is being done

There is a poem in this place
Where Rohingya people dream to have a country
Where they hope to have a place to call home
Where they wish to have an identity
They neither belong to Bangladesh nor to Myanmar,
We don't have an identity in either country
They wish they could sleep without smelling fire and death

There is a poem in this place
Where kids are torn apart from their relations
The relatives are in another country
A 14 year old girl wishes she had her whole family with her
She wishes they were next to her
She wishes she could hear stories about the past
She wishes on Eid she would eat with her grandmother, grandfather, and cousins.
She wishes she could have someone else stand up for her and her people
She is lucky to have her parents and siblings by her side
Others aren’t