Reblog; I am sharing Usha’s response to WDYS # 89. A very moving poem
This picture reminds me of a true story I have heard, told by a friend, as she experienced it.
“Flee, flee, they are coming for us”, rang in my ears, at dead of night. Except for a few, the village was deserted. “This is my home, the only place, I have known, since birth”, I cried. “How can I uproot and leave, not easy.”
“Flee flee, before it is too late,” the voice whispered. No room to carry even a few precious belongings. A nomad, had to learn to travel light. “Space enough just for you and your golden memories, to relive at leisure, if fate wills you to breathe,” I uttered softly.
We sped stealthily, consumed by the dark night. Each receeding mile, bringing us closer to our safe haven. When, all of a sudden, at the break of dawn, our ‘Noah’s Ark’ sputtered…
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