We present you a poem from Rosa Bino, a member of old Chechen diaspora in Jordan.<\/p>\n
.<\/span><\/p>\n .<\/span><\/p>\n .<\/span><\/p>\n Where We Belong<\/strong><\/p>\n There is a wound in my heart, I tried to forget, It’s like I’m homeless. Home! Sometimes I wonder, I wish, I wish, Rosa BINO<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" We present you a poem from Rosa Bino, a member of old Chechen diaspora in Jordan.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":9505,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-9504","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poems"],"views":2083,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.waynakh.com\/eng\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9504","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.waynakh.com\/eng\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.waynakh.com\/eng\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.waynakh.com\/eng\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.waynakh.com\/eng\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=9504"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.waynakh.com\/eng\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9504\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":12262,"href":"https:\/\/www.waynakh.com\/eng\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9504\/revisions\/12262"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.waynakh.com\/eng\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/9505"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.waynakh.com\/eng\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=9504"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.waynakh.com\/eng\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=9504"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.waynakh.com\/eng\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=9504"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nThe older I grow the deeper it gets,
\n‘Cause the older you get the wiser you become,
\nThe wider your eyes open up.<\/p>\n
\nAnd
\nMove on,
\nBut,
\nHow can someone forget the place
\nWhere he is supposed to belong!<\/p>\n
\nWherever I go,
\nI feel different,
\nI try to blend in,
\nTry to forget,
\nTry to move on,
\nBut then before I go to sleep
\nI shed some bitter tears
\nFor the years spent away
\nFrom the place they call home.<\/p>\n
\nIsn’t that the place people peaceful live in?!
\nThen how come we call it home,
\nWhen nobody actually enjoyed living there!<\/p>\n
\nWhy our nation was the chosen one to be destroyed
\nWhen there is many others,
\nI wish no harm to anyone,
\nBut accepting the fact that
\nI might never take a free air breath is suffocating me.<\/p>\n
\nI was an old oak tree back home,
\nA tree that embraced our home land’s soil.<\/p>\n
\nI stood still there,
\nJust like a great unbeatable mountain
\nTo witness it all,
\nAnd tell the story
\nAbout the place where we belong.<\/p>\n