We all belong to a land. The land where we grew up on. The land that we first smelled. The land that we smelled again and again and ran around as innocent kids. Although the world is divided into nations, in reality, there are no physical boundaries or divisions on the Earth between countries. Who are we? Children of the Earth? How do we feel in a different land? Is it the Earth that lets us stand on our feet and gaze at the Moon or consume the loving Sun?
Do post your Poetry about Experiences of Refugees below. Thank you!