A Day of Remembrance

On the twenty-fifth of August, these days.

The lives we lost, the tears we cried,

The homes we left, ones by our side.

May peace return to our homeland,

We remember mothers calling,

We remember children’s fear,

We remember those who vanished,

And the voices we still hear.

Our identity will never fade.

Our past will never be forgotten—

Our future will be free.

And peace will replace the night.

Let the world hear the Rohingya voice,

We ask the world to hear our story,

To stand for justice, truth, and right.

And those who died that day.

Though years may pass and roads may change,

The mothers, fathers, sons and daughters,

Not only sorrow, but our hope.

With unity, courage, peace, and justice,

May the world remember what happened,

Never forget the lives we lost.

Never forget the truth we carry.

May justice come, may peace return,

Your names are written in our hearts.

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1.2 Million People Cry.

Under the same sky.

Different villages,

different roads,

different houses.

From Maungdaw,

from Buthidaung,

from Rathedaung,

and from many other places,

we came with nothing.

A place where

a million people stand,

waiting, waiting—

only seeking peace.

No checkpoint.

No passport check.

No ID card check.

Why?

How?

How is it possible

for 1.2 million people

to suddenly become refugees?

We asked the border police officer:

“Where should we go?”

The boat suddenly came

to an unknown place.

The sea was behind us.

Our homeland was far away.

Then we heard a name:

Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina.

Hasina gave us

a place to stay—

Cox’s Bazar.

A small place

for people.

We ask for only one thing—

who had lost a whole homeland.

Some people said,

“She wants the Nobel Prize.”

How?

Why?

When?

I do not know.

I only know

that 1.2 million people

needed somewhere to stand.

“Where will I go tomorrow?”

No Questions.

No Answer.

We fled

An Unknown place.

2:00 AM Tonight,

1.2 million people

look at the faces.

And remember the villages.

They were forced to leave.

The cows are gone.

The villages are silent.

The borders remain.

A million hearts still cry:

“We are Rohingya.

We are human.

We want peace.

We want dignity.

We want to go home.”

— Asheqe

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Short Bio 

Rohingya Poet / Author

A dedicated student from the Rohingya community at IIUC, where I’m studying Electronic and Telecommunication Engineering (ETE). I have a strong interest in leadership and rights defense—Rohingya community development.

As part of my academic journey, I also studied for an Associate Degree in Political Science at the Rohingya Academic Research Institute. 

As a member of the Rohingya community, I’m passionate about education, empowerment, and creating opportunities for displaced people. Through my writing, I represent the Rohingya community’s engagement. I hope to contribute positively to society and inspire young people to pursue their dreams despite challenges.