Hot and Cold

27 June 2013


I remember when my mother was waking me up
In the morning for bath.

The water was so cold,

She kept saying she ain’t got money
To heat the water
Every drop of the water on my body
Causing drops of tears, I remember.

In the morning bathing was a hell.

7 o’clock in the morning after bath

She dressed me up and served me breakfast

The school was miles away

And I had no money to pay for my bus ticket.

In the morning walking to school was a hell.

A long sandy road in the noon

Full of hot sand, I remember.

My feet got burnt

When walking back home from school.

However the drop of rain can be heard

And puts a smile on my face as I can walk

Without feeling the heat of the sun in the noon.


Each journey entails a hundred possibilities.

I have been thinking all my life

To make my way to this land,

Many of us called the rich land.

But when I reached

This so-called rich land,

It’s like a white storm,

The whole land is so cold

As Arctic

With no home, no shelter.

These two poems by ‘Naz’ appeared in the New Londoners magazine for their Refugee Week 2013 special supplement. You can read an interview with their author and more information about the partnership between JRS-UK and English PEN charity that ran our creative writing workshops here:

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Jesuit Refugee Service UK
The Hurtado Jesuit Centre
2 Chandler Street, London E1W 2QT

020 7488 7310

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