Syrian Cinderella

This beauty wasn't always
scrubbing hearths by hand;
she had a loving father,
taken by politic's violence.

She dodged stray bullets
sheltered in cardboard
and planned her daily routes
to avoid the battle zones.

Finally she made it out;
in the South, did what was needed
to start a new life even though
grunge work was all she got.

College is tough when
you study in the dark
and you have two jobs
just to be able to eat.

Worse when those
who used to share
your silver platter
still have theirs.

Shallow thoughts,
cruel judgments
cast aspersions on her
for being the victim.

She prevails in trauma
refusing to lie down
for the long sleep
of giving up her dreams.

Still, she pauses sometimes
sitting in crappy cyber cafes
and silently tears up for
the loss of her easy life.

I'll see her in twenty years
when these memories fade
and she has to struggle
to remember the dire months.