On the Run; Where do we Go?

[The Mvmnt] Croxt:

A flag caught in the storms and torn into confusion by winds with different directions. Where do we go? The lightning has struck and the waters are rising. The storm has no warning and thunder is its trumpet. We heard it from afar, praying that someone would stop it. The babies were crying as the clouds were forming and for a minute we might have had the slightest chance to escape the whole fire. We did not bring this on ourselves to break so tell me, where do we go? Where does the the flag go when the mast is brought to its knees? How do the birds fly when they are tossed around in the winds? The papers came folding on us and I'm convinced the ink we bled those nights could have done a better job. It's never too late to fight but where's the food? Where do we go for shelter? The pain is a party we were never invited to and if you could ask, you found me gatecrashing my wedding with the rains. The forests know how far we've walked and the gunshots behind us could scare us less. We are not impressed; that the brothers we boasted have turned against us. We'd never be proud that the plates we shared were thrown right into our faces. Innocent faces. Many innocent faces. Who authors this pain because I have a pressing question to ask.. Straight in the eyes, I'll look and question; where do we go? Now that we're here, what's the way forward? Do you survive the fight even if the pain never leaves? Or pain don't last forever? Paint me this picture.. Mothers running with children tied to their backs. Fathers on the run with their families on their shoulders.. asking themselves the same question I'm asking myself; where do we go? When home is no longer home and where we are from is a long story too hard to tell. Why are we here? I'm in the library of life with speculations that deserve an answer. Tune into my pain and see that we are the same. Turn the page with me and see if this is worth reading. Who wants us now that home has spit us? Who wants to take us in after our own threw us out? Where's the comfort we had and why is sympathy not what we need at the moment? We have left our trust behind and the flags we praised have nowhere else to stand. Things take time and we are on our way to recovery. That's our mission. Mind on the road to a new destination, a different accent and less than us jobs. We will laugh again and we will smile again. The fire has evaporated and the survivors have been evacuated. They are out in the wild now, stranded, almost lost, looking for a way; asking themselves the same question, where do we go?