Peace Is a Dream in My Land 

I lost my pen in blood. 

I lost my knowledge in ignorance. 

I lost my way in a street filled with dead bodies,   

Peace is a dream in my land. 

Dust from bomb blasts covers me. 

Body parts surround me. 

I turn my face to the sky when it rains, 

Peace is a dream in my land. 

How long can we wait for peace? 

How long can we live in fear of living? 

How many family members can we lose? 

Peace is a dream in my land. 

Religion is supposed to save people’s lives. 

Religion is killing people. 

Hands rise in prayer to save this land from evil, 

Peace is a dream in my land. 

People hate each other. 

People kill each other.   

Life is more worthless than anything. 

Peace is a dream in my land. 

My beautiful land looks like a graveyard. 

The houses are in ruins. 

Dust has taken over the green,   

Peace is a dream in my land. 

When will all this end? 

Will we ever live without war? 

There is an ongoing war in my land,

Peace is a dream in my land. 

Grab the Pen and Write

Grab the pen and write and write, and write from beginning to end.

Write about the injustice that happened to you. 

Write about the pain that never healed. 

Write about the silent pain you can’t do anything about.

Write about the dead body you held, and 

screamed as people watched you drown in sorrow. 

Write about the body part you lost in an explosion, and 

when you buried an empty coffin.

Write and write—until you can’t cry anymore. 

When your eyes are dry, your words shut down, 

when the world is deaf to your voice, and blind to see you,

grab the pen and write about yourself. 

Write about your dream of peace and about the better life lost to the war.

Write about your son who died in your hands.

Or write about your father who was killed in an explosion, 

or about your daughter who was beheaded or burned alive on the street.

Write about no justice.

Write about the men who wear a suit and the face of a devil.

Write about how hopeless you feel inside. How you cried enough. 

How you screamed enough.

How the world is deaf now. 

Write about how you live in hell with no name of religion or humanity, 

where money comes before human life. 

Put the power in your pen and write about your history.

Let the world know about your identity, your true love, and your cares. 

Fill the pages and papers, fill the books and shelves, until your story can be read.

Until your voice can be heard, until war stops. 

Grab the pen and write.

This is the power that is in your hand.