I've seen your faces over and over.
I've spoken to you in my dreams, putting my hands in yours.
In my dreams I've laughed with you, cried with you, listened to your horror stories of your country, your families, yourself.
I've been shown the scars of life in each of your stories.
You've shown me the hope of today, yet the worries of your tomorrows are not far behind.
If only I could personally meet you face to face, instead of through the photos and the stories others tell of you.
Seeing the image of your faces is engraved in my mind, yet I have no idea who each of you are.
Will I ever be able to truly hold you in my arms?
Will I ever be able to take in your sweet smell of childhood?
I still hope for that day when my feet will step upon your land and search for you by name, by village.
As you can see, I've been touched by your very lives.
