*Feb. 27, 2001--another one from the archive that I found shuffling papers.
Originally written to be a song.

(verse 1)

Not long ago in a small European nation
I rode around the coutry side
visiting the homeless, heirs of desolation.
Often, I think of those bright faces
and wonder where they abide.
What has happened to them in this space?

(Refrain)

Where is my family?
The ones who helped me
when they needed help the most.
Where is my family?
Ar they safe at home, free,
in Kosovo after all it cost.
I pray you are well.

(verse 2)

Living in a room nine feet by nine feet--
all eleven of you patiently wait.
Grandma and granpa, mother and father,
all seven children patiently waiting
with no electricity and empty plates.
No sink, bathtub, or water running.

(repeat refrain)

(verse 3)

Thank the Lord we took a wrong turn,
ended up at the place you stayed.
For, meeting you allowed us to forever learn
what generous, hopeful people you are.
Amid the conflict, grief heavily weighed
you endured like gold that doesn't burn.

(refrain)

Where is my family?
The ones who helped me
when they needed help the most.
Where is my family?
Are they safe at home, free,
in Kosovo after all it cost.
I pray you are well.