I was a child like a breeze—beautiful and fresh
I was born during war where people try to escape
I gave smiles with my small lips to other’s smiles
I was a morning breeze entering houses with happy families
I was not powerful enough to cure their pain of losing loved ones
But the wind before every rain shakes all trees
Now this little breeze is a wind
Like a child who grows into a teenager
The wind’s voice can be heard before it comes to the forests and cities
But no one knows my voice, no one clearly hears it.
I am a beautiful wind before the rain.
I do not yet have enough power to support poor people
Or help the flower buds from begging on the streets
I do not have power to bring the flower bud to the master gardener
But I am now a wind, and I will become a powerful young storm
That lifts up the innocent, like seeds growing in the dirt
The young storm is beginning
It will hug every poor and orphaned child
And paint a beautiful picture of life with all the colors of nature.
After that storm ends, will rise a beautiful rainbow.
Farida Fa., age 16