Way afar and far away,
people to their own gods pray,
children cry-they’re hungry,
the mother’s died, no family.
Left to fight and to survive,
what chance have they to truly thrive?
A few may do so, swallow pride,
but inner tears they often hide.
Draw their strength from the deepest well,
stoic, so you cannot tell,
stronger than you’ll ever know,
sad that it should e’ve be so.