At dawn he rose with eyes alert,
Surveyed the land, his brow now hurt.
The soldiers stood with rifles raised—
Their sights on us, our home encased.

 

He moved in haste, no sound, no shout,
His daughter stood half-in, half-out.
A hush, a hand across her lips,
Then pointed where the danger gripped.

 

He led her low and through the door,
Then woke the rest to face the roar.
No locks to turn, no way to hide—
Just open walls and fear inside.

 

We lived that day with fear enflamed,
But none who left would feel the same.
Peace is a torch we dared to hold,
Still alive, our story told.

 

We crouched in stillness, scanned the air—
The cat purred soft, the geckos stared.
A spider danced with morning light
While jungle war stayed out of sight.

 

Then came the noise, a screaming blast,
With rifles drawn, with much bombast.
He sat with calm, the couch too small,
Arms round his children through it all.

 

They ransacked drawers, dumped every bin,
And claimed his stuff a sign of sin.
“You are a traitor!” they accused,
But he stood still, a calm suffused.

 

We lived that day with fear enflamed,
But none who left would feel the same.
Peace is a torch we dared to hold,
Still alive, our story told.

 

They took our guns, our radio,
And left us shaken, bent but whole.
His mission clear though times were grim—
To build, to teach, and not condemn.

 

The jungle raged with cries of war,
But he believed in something more.
That all are equal, free from chains,
And faith could shine where hate remains.

 

We lived that day with fear enflamed,
But none who left would feel the same.
Peace is a torch we dared to hold,
Still alive, our story told.