She's a Beuty

This poem was inspired by my friends at the Dzaleka Refugee Camp who in spite of what they have been through, they still live their lives

Cracked feet, caroused hands 

Blacked skin from the scorching sun

Her skin is the colour of sin 

Her lips cracked for the lack of of Vaseline 

Her dreams the smell of the perfume of an undertaker

War, refugee 

But

She's a beauty in her brokeness

A saint in her misery 

She's broke on the outside 

But she's hope springing on the inside 

My ear can hear 

Her thumping heart 

Throbbing for existence 

She's not just alive 

She's is living