A Refugee's Escape

Months ago, I had to leave my country, and being war-torn, death was everywhere; babies cried under the smoking rubble and with bleeding hands, I did save many. The projected missiles kept on coming, a gray mushroom cloud formed rising; buildings tumbled down, crashing in dust; in a small bunker I hid and raised my fist. I cursed Man for being so destructive, I invoked God to protect me from injury; and in my anguish, I felt innate serenity... the only one alive doing the imperative. War is another plague that has bred much hate; if my looks and skin is the cause of all plights, why am I to blame for having been born in this land of palms and deserts that memories awake? Not in God's, but in the hands of mercy lies my fate; off to Europe I go, following the shadow of others... will I be welcomed or rejected for my religious beliefs? My hope rests in their kindness and the vows I take.