Do You Want to See Iraq?

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Do You Want to See Iraq?

© Lozan Yamolky

Do you want to see Iraq?

Do you want to see my Iraq?

Do you want to see the Iraq  that flooded my heart
since childhood  with much of the love
that is flowing in and through me?

Do you want to see the Iraq  that made me respect the poor,
enjoy nature
and value life?

 

Iraq that made me feel love  for mountains,
hills and even skies?
That love was for ordinary, beautiful life
and a growing admiration  for genuinely caring people.

 

Do you want to see my Iraq?

 

The Iraq that made my heart  skip a beat
and never again returned  to its previous rhythm
from the moment I crossed the borders
of that land into a foreign land?

 

This foreign land welcomed me:
accepted, fed and sheltered me.

 

Do you want to see the Iraq  that put a lump in my throat?
Though I never cried enough,
the second the Turkish border guard
stamped that page on my passport
allowing me into their land;
I released my tears.

The stamp sounded much like
a loud single beat on a metal drum.

 

I recall looking through the night skies
when the plane took off,
taking me far, far away from Iraq.

 

From Istanbul heading to Canada;
I looked long and hard  hoping
to see Iraq one more time.

 

From above the clouds,
against the cold window,
I pressed my face  and prayed I could see Iraq
in the distance
– just one more time,
perhaps for the last time.

 

I never truly said goodbye.

I could not truly bid it farewell,
even though this was no vacation;
nor was it an easy  or a safe choice to make.

 

I prayed in silence  as the plane flew over Europe;
prayed that one day,
I would see  my Iraq again…
but in peace.

 

 

Who leaves a land they love too much?’
I am asked from time to time
to which I answer,
‘Who wants to run back into their home
when it’s on fire?

______________

© Lozan Yamolky
A pome from my debut poetry book: I’m No Hero
Published by: Silver Bow in 2016
To order your copy of my books, contact me.

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