I remember...

I remember the eyes and tears of my mother. But before I talk about my mother, I will describe my family. I have a very big family: eight brothers and five sisters. I’m the seventh in the family. I say “sorrows of my mother” (tears of my mom) because I am the only person from my family who is in exile: immigration commodes, escape into the unknown. It was the only way for me to maintain the safety of my family first, my personal safety secondly, where it became a source of concern for my family. Before 2000, some unjust people chased me every week. Why? Because they wanted people to be silent! How? Why? Where? When? What? I DO NOT KNOW! One day somebody came and said, “Get out!” so I decided to escape. This is where the suffering of my mother began. The day of the travel arrived. I put on my clothes. My mother prepared my travelling bag, talked to me and relieved me from pain. In a moment, she said, “Why do you need to travel? Why don’t you stay?” This is when the tears started to come down and I was not attentive but I realized that her voice changed. I looked at my mother crying but without sounds. I said that it was too hard to stay.
Position and the impact of my sight, but… but… but… but what could I say?? I came out of the house and I became a prisoner of tears of my mother and my own salvation.
We all live in a big prison and every person is a prisoner of suffering and pain.

Ahmad