This is not a call, just a way to understand...

I have a written a short poem which I feel summarizes the hidden struggle some friends and I are experiencing in a new land as a result of the economic poverty in our country. Please bear in mind that as much as we love the land where we grew up, it ultimately pains us to leave it behind along with our dreams and our families. And while the newly displaced life eased our pockets a little, the misery and loneliness will somehow remain in our hearts. While we turned into uninvited guests in a strange country, accused as a sell out by our fellow men, let it be known that we have made this choice (to sacrifice a dream) because in a selfish way we want to ultimately see (even if it’s just a portion of) our home smile again. If you want to look for us in whatever country you are in, just look around and see the men and women with the least fashion sense and would probably speak with a strange accent. But heck, we do a little regrouping here and there just to kill alienation.


We are the H-1 Bee’s
We fly from every flower to flower
In search of honey
We leave our hives
And sell our souls
We hope you’ll see us
When we knock on your office doors

Tis a lonely job
To seek our food and shelter
And we do apologize
When we get lost in translation
You may snicker, slam and mock us
But our tears have long been dried up
Even though our well remains

We are the H-1 Bee’s
Misery with no company
Forgive us if we forget
But don’t forget us for giving
Because you’ll find us anywhere
And nowhere all at once