Over the last two months, a dozen students from three continents have been meeting to write and reflect as part of the Writers Matter program. The following piece is part of the “I Am From” collection, and comes from Amina in Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina.
I want to escape it. I want to run away from it. It makes me sick and scared and it’s following me wherever I go. All I see are blurry lines and a vague vision of what the world could be, but it keeps spinning and nothing is clear. People and places are blurry and I’m only sure of what I feel. The breeze that so graciously feeds my brain and the hand that holds me tight . The rain that washes over my face and the salty tears that flow with it. The kiss from a human and the kiss from the sun . The ground that keeps me from flying and the bed that keeps me from dreaming. The stories that I fall asleep to and more so the ones that wake me up. I feel the cold that gives me illness and the warmth that makes me dizzy. I feel the people that I hold and the words that they give me. I feel it because it’s real and it’s real because I made it that way. I am from the fear of making nothing real. From spinning on this ride until my body is left alone, and my soul is wondering. Wondering why am I running away. Why can’t I sit with it? Why does nothing make me so scared and I yearn for something, anything? But when I lay my head on the cold ground and close my eyes forever, I’ll see that the world is steady and I was the one spinning. Nothing is very clear and real now and it’s my comfort because I know it. We all return to what we know. I am from nothing, and to that I return.
Debate for Peace 