23
Poems: Honourable Me ntions / Group 1 (Grades 4 to 6)
My Dream
I dream of a place
Where people are not judged by their race.
Where people think more of what they can achieve
Instead of the different things that they believe.
Where it doesn’t matter whether girl or boy,
And people are always filled with tender joy.
Where trade is fair,
And clothing one doesn’t leave another bare.
Where people are not thrown from their homes
And made to live like underground gnomes.
Where there are no fights
And there’s always happy light.
I dream of a world
Where bombs are never hurled.
I find it’s really lame
When humans are not treated the same.
That is the world I dream of.
Ashton Porter
Castlebridge Public School, Grade 5
Age 11
Honourable Mention – 2010
The Refugees’ Escape
As I walked around the gi-normous, bustling city,
I stopped by a family that didn’t look so pretty.
Each of their faces were filled with dismay.
And the glisten in their eyes showed it simply wasn’t the way.
So I asked them, “What’s wrong, you all look so blue,
Is there a way I can help any of you?”
The bruised father told me the whole story,
It certainly wasn’t one that went out in a blaze of glory.
Oh, so horrid the deaths, persecution and war,
It seemed like that they could have took nothing more.
So they came here, this place to find refuge in the country,
Since their leaders really wanted to put them in the sentry.
The family certainly didn’t want to get into any fights,
What they wanted most was their freedom and human rights.
The right to have the freedom against discrimination of all kinds,
The right to have religion, thought, and mind.
The right to not be abused is something all should get,
The right of having a nationality is one that should be set.
But most importantly, the right of having peace,
And peace and hope is just what we need.
Aiken Chau
St. Ignatius of Loyola, Grade 5
Age 11
Honourable Mention – 2010
Refugees make the Ralph Chiodo Family Immigrant Reception Centre their
first home in Canada.
24
Poems: Honourable Me ntions / Group 1 (Grades 4 to 6)
Am I Important?
I once had to leave because of my religion, I wore a scarf
on my head and that took this position
And then we had to move because we were different
from our country’s fashion
I’m not proud to say that I live on the streets, I’m
starving to death I need something to eat.
Will someone please help me and give me a home put me in
a safe place where I cannot be thrown
Now we don’t have any money god please don’t be mad,
we have no home trust me way more than just sad
No one would accept my culture just cause I’m black, its
sad that skin colour matters all that, the worlds
getting ruined sadder than sad
Poverty is mean it stole all my dreams
My parents don’t have jobs due to the fact that they
got stolen by mean nasty jerks that already worked
Someone should speak I think it should be me
Rich people are mean they took all our money, their living
in mansions with a tonne of companions
Racism is rude it should be taken away. Now there’s more to say
Now the worlds a safer place for you and I today! June 20 Refugee Day.
Maryam Patel
Morning Star Middle School, Grade 6
Age 11
Honourable Mention – 2010
LOST REFUGEES
My body, trembling as I stand in the room,
All eyes on me after the words I just spoke.
The glares, the stares I don’t know what to do,
Suddenly, the silence had finally broke.
My wife and I, head straight for the door,
With all the yelling, I know, we are not alone.
We immediately run to our home, hand in hand,
I glance at my wife, a worried face shown.
We hear the footsteps up the stairs,
I’m hoping they won’t hear my cries.
Just because the truth came out,
My husband regrets not telling lies.
I think about my thoughtful husband,
While hiding in the smallest place.
All he wanted was a way out
Now if only I could see his face.
They burst open the closet and then they said,
“Take him away,” and he was grabbed by 3 men.
The wife tried to stop them, but let’s just say,
The husband and wife were never seen again.
Miranda D’Orazio
Pope John Paul II School, Grade 6
Age 11
Honourable Mention – 2011
25
On Reserve
Living on the margins, stranded on the reserve
We’re tired and fed up but haven’t lost our nerve
We disagree with the government because we’re neglected
No alternate income, now we’re infected
The alcohol and drugs: my Grandchildren want to die
Just like their friends, they drop like flies
You would think we’d be able to quench our thirst with water
But water testing proves it’s an Aboriginal slaughter
They contaminated our water up at the power plant
There’s nothing we can do, but sing and chant
Here in Canada, water is a “Human Right”
Now we can’t turn on the tap and drink without a fright
CAPP. came on to our land and made a mess our soil
Just to get rich and steal our oil
CAPP. didn’t even ask, like a disease you invade
We did our best to make our blockade
When we heard about the Oil we were unprepared
We now look into the future and feel pretty scared
The roaming Permafrost is starting to disappear
Hunting and Fishing is getting harder every year
The polar bears and seals have begun migrating
Attention to the environment could be lifesaving
We in the north are trying to cope
Hybrids and energy savers are giving us hope
Drew Doherty
Munns Public School, Grade 8
Age 14
Honourable Mention – 2010
Untitled
What are those lines you are carving?
In what was once my father’s banyan tree
What do you mean multiply the profit
And divide equally amongst the ceo’s?
Teach me, please
But what I beg of you falls on deaf ears
You turn away
Please
I am human too
Don’t torture me this way
Teach me
You turn a blind eye and look the other way
Am I not human too?
Are my requirements meaningless?
So with bloodstained hands from working off my debt
I seek a new way to learn
So I can repurchase my father’s farm from you
And re-plant that banyan tree
Just remember this
Your on top now, but the world keeps spinning
And soon it will be my turn
Then when you ask me to teach you too
I will turn the other cheek
You had your chance and now we’re done
Sanjana Randhawa
W.H. Morden Public School, Grade 8
Age 13
Honourable Mention – 2010
poems:
Honourable
Mentions
Group I1 (Grades 8-10)
Poems: Honourable Me ntions / Group 11 (Grades 8 to 10)
26
Poems: Honourable Me ntions / Group 11 (Grades 8 to 10)
What do you want?
What do you want?
Because I have nothing to give,
No clothes on my back,
No money in my pockets,
No shoes on my feet
Like a wild animal I am free from individuals like you
People, would you call them people?
They have no purpose,
No dignity,
They sit there and wait like fruit as they rot
I, have dignity
But not to give, not to you
Not to anyone
Because dignity, dignity’s mine!
I know what you have
But who cares, all you add up to is ignorance
A beautiful peacock in a pen full of pigs
Astonishing in appearance
But no pure intentions within
What do you want?
You are beautiful,
And all I have is dignity.
Emily Droppo
W.H. Morden Public School, Grade 8
Age 14
Honourable Mention – 2010
Artist Rendition of COSTI Ralph Chiodo
Family Immigrant Reception Centre
27
Poems: Honourable Me ntions / Group 11 (Grades 8 to 10)
The Price to Pay
I huddled among the shrubbery and know that today is the day,
I have one last chance to get my son to safety in a place far, far away.
With my son bundled warmly I can begin on my task,
I need to leave this place, and a safe route is all I ask.
I hear soldiers coming closer and in fear I run,
Oh please do not let them catch me; do not let them take my son!
When their voices fade into the distance, I can finally slow my pace.
I have overcome one of the many challenges that today I must face.
…
I stumble through villages after villages, all filled with despair,
Clutching my son closer I wonder how is this fair?
What if my situation was different...what life could I have led?
I have no food to give him, and no time to spare.
I hurry along quickly, knowing that we are almost there.
Up ahead is my destination; a small sheltered piece of land,
Where the human smuggler is waiting; sitting comfortably in the sand.
He stands as I approach, and I pay his fee,
Tears spring to my eyes as he gently takes my son from me.
I watch them go until they have faded away,
My world is shattered, but it is a price I must pay.
Tanisha Teelucksingh
Mountain Ash Middle School, Grade 8
Age 14
Honourable Mention – 2010
Disbelief to Despair
“Bad news?” said he
“Deportation”
I stood in disbelief
My face calm, my body still
The hole of despair ripping through my insides screamed
-Not Possible!
Everything I had believed about justice and fairness
Was now torn
In two
But we had to try
“Worse news” said he
“No hope”
My disbelief twisted to rage
My face no longer calm,
My body no longer still
My mind cluttered with
Despair and deceit
-Is it fair for paperwork to decide your fate?
Time was against us. It was too late.
His hopes for a future torn away.
James Hogan
Precious Blood School, Grade 8
Age 13
Honourable Mention – 2010
28
Poems: Honourable Me ntions / Group 11 (Grades 8 to 10)
Lovely Mother
Can you see me mother, as I play with my new friends?
Can you see me play ball at school and sing a song?
I wish with all my heart and soul that this doesn’t end,
And that this happiness stays with you and me for long.
Did you hear me mother, as I read out loud today?
My teacher said I did wonderful, and I was doing a good job at school.
You should have been there to hear me say the words from the book and stay,
For I had done a great job, and you would have smiled a smile as beautiful as a jewel.
Have your heard mother, the thunderous noises at night and the heart-breaking screams?
They seem so un real, all so sudden; I wish that this was just a horrible dream,
In which you could hold me close and sing me to sleep, with your loving, warm eyes being the light.
Oh mother, do I have to leave, the thought of you alone hurts me awfully.
I know that things are getting tough, and the adults are having a hard time fixing their problems,
But I would do anything to be with you here and not somewhere else that you think would be safe for me.
Sure, it’s dangerous here but you and I have been through so much with pictures placed into many albums.
Great mother, I miss you dearly, do you miss me too?
This new country seems so strange; it’s a whole new world and I feel as if I don’t belong here,
These people don’t seem like my friends, these words are strange, and great mother, what I say is true.
I pray you were here once more, and my ears and heart ache for your soft voice, a voice so sincere.
Dear mother I keep you here in my heart and your words in my minds, do you still remember me too?
I work so hard that my body cracks, keeping your last works that told me to never give up in my mind, as I do.
This world is hard, and though it’s been several years, the adults are still fighting with no care,
But I promise you, lovely mother, that one day I’ll take you to a place where its all lovely and fair.
Sana Usman
Lisgar Middle School, Grade 8
Age 13
Honourable Mention – 2010
29
Where is home
Moj dedo constructed his brick-walled home
With all his effort passion and time
But the raging war burned all his dreams
And in the end the enemy made his home
His funeral pyre.
Unable to return home
Moj streko fought for his life
Dodging enemy steal bullets
Until one finally
Sent his soul home to paradise.
With no home to protect us
Mama i tata took us from house to house
Where everyone became family, but every new house, now home
One after another was destroyed.
Sada ja brought us to a new country, its language unknown
With no money, no home, no family just us four
We wondered if God heard our prayers
Would he provide us here
As he provided us there?
The war is over, and the years have passed
But etched in the walls of a home that is ours in name only
I run my fingers along the concrete
And find the holes still mark these walls
And our family.
Moj Dedo - My grandpa
Moj streko - My uncle
Mama i tata – Mom and dad
Sada – Now I
Marina Ajhert
Holy Name of Mary Catholic Secondary School, Grade 12
Age 17
Honourable Mention – 2011
Never Give Up Hope
I heard there are some people,
whose lives are different from my own,
for their lives are full of hardships
that they must suffer all alone.
I heard there are some people,
who don’t have the same rights as I,
they work much harder to earn a living
without ever asking why.
I heard there are some people,
who are forced to flee their home.
In order to find a better life,
throughout the world they roam.
I heard there are some people,
who don’t ever get the chance
to speak their mind, for when they do,
they just don’t receive a glance
I heard there are some people,
who, although they can barley cope,
keep their heads held high amidst all pain
and never give up hope.
Andrea Guljas
Loretto Abbey Catholic Secondary School, Grade 9
Age 14
Honourable Mention – 2010
poems:
Honourable
Mentions
Group 111 (Grades 9-12)
Poems: Honourable Me ntions / Group 111 (Grades 9 to 12) 29
Where is home
Moj dedo constructed his brick-walled home
With all his effort passion and time
But the raging war burned all his dreams
And in the end the enemy made his home
His funeral pyre.
Unable to return home
Moj streko fought for his life
Dodging enemy steal bullets
Until one finally
Sent his soul home to paradise.
With no home to protect us
Mama i tata took us from house to house
Where everyone became family, but every new house, now home
One after another was destroyed.
Sada ja brought us to a new country, its language unknown
With no money, no home, no family just us four
We wondered if God heard our prayers
Would he provide us here
As he provided us there?
The war is over, and the years have passed
But etched in the walls of a home that is ours in name only
I run my fingers along the concrete
And find the holes still mark these walls
And our family.
Moj Dedo - My grandpa
Moj streko - My uncle
Mama i tata – Mom and dad
Sada – Now I
Marina Ajhert
Holy Name of Mary Catholic Secondary School, Grade 12
Age 17
Honourable Mention – 2011
Never Give Up Hope
I heard there are some people,
whose lives are different from my own,
for their lives are full of hardships
that they must suffer all alone.
I heard there are some people,
who don’t have the same rights as I,
they work much harder to earn a living
without ever asking why.
I heard there are some people,
who are forced to flee their home.
In order to find a better life,
throughout the world they roam.
I heard there are some people,
who don’t ever get the chance
to speak their mind, for when they do,
they just don’t receive a glance
I heard there are some people,
who, although they can barley cope,
keep their heads held high amidst all pain
and never give up hope.
Andrea Guljas
Loretto Abbey Catholic Secondary School, Grade 9
Age 14
Honourable Mention – 2010
poems:
Honourable
Mentions
Group 111 (Grades 9-12)
Poems: Honourable Me ntions / Group 111 (Grades 9 to 12)
29
Where is home
Moj dedo constructed his brick-walled home
With all his effort passion and time
But the raging war burned all his dreams
And in the end the enemy made his home
His funeral pyre.
Unable to return home
Moj streko fought for his life
Dodging enemy steal bullets
Until one finally
Sent his soul home to paradise.
With no home to protect us
Mama i tata took us from house to house
Where everyone became family, but every new house, now home
One after another was destroyed.
Sada ja brought us to a new country, its language unknown
With no money, no home, no family just us four
We wondered if God heard our prayers
Would he provide us here
As he provided us there?
The war is over, and the years have passed
But etched in the walls of a home that is ours in name only
I run my fingers along the concrete
And find the holes still mark these walls
And our family.
Moj Dedo - My grandpa
Moj streko - My uncle
Mama i tata – Mom and dad
Sada – Now I
Marina Ajhert
Holy Name of Mary Catholic Secondary School, Grade 12
Age 17
Honourable Mention – 2011
Never Give Up Hope
I heard there are some people,
whose lives are different from my own,
for their lives are full of hardships
that they must suffer all alone.
I heard there are some people,
who don’t have the same rights as I,
they work much harder to earn a living
without ever asking why.
I heard there are some people,
who are forced to flee their home.
In order to find a better life,
throughout the world they roam.
I heard there are some people,
who don’t ever get the chance
to speak their mind, for when they do,
they just don’t receive a glance
I heard there are some people,
who, although they can barley cope,
keep their heads held high amidst all pain
and never give up hope.
Andrea Guljas
Loretto Abbey Catholic Secondary School, Grade 9
Age 14
Honourable Mention – 2010
poems:
Honourable
Mentions
Group 111 (Grades 9-12)
Poems: Honourable Me ntions / Group 111 (Grades 9 to 12)
30
Poems: Honourable Me ntions / Group 111 (Grades 9 to 12)
Dare I Complain
Misery had consumed my being, as mound upon mound life’s complications heaped.
Though to what depths would my complications lie, when side by side to one who had never reaped?
Do I dare lament at a childhood, too soon forsaken?
Whilst one on the other side hopes it was but a dream mistaken,
For I could reminisce, to a world in which I had no worry,
Nay fretted the other, on how to lay forth a meal in a scurry.
But was I not the same as he, in title both known, as “human being”?
Though with this title had we been distinguished; he but a beggar, I, vain and unseeing.
Dare I grieve at a home, inadequately furnished?
Whereas, roadside rested another, but a bed, slightly tarnished.
Proceed I, to pursue my democracy, on account of benefits that had not been given?
Why benefits seemed but a dream in a place, wherein residents, out had been driven.
Complain could I never, that boredom bore me in a country where I remained stationary,
Whilst a man in another, pleaded to flee, from the chaos brought forth by those revolutionary.
Myself did I pity from time to time, as to my government was I but a mere peasant.
Peasant was king, in the eyes of one, whom to cockroach had been lessened.
Crushed could he be, momentarily, by one who had carried a bezant.
As a child, demand toys did I, with which but I had the right to play,
Though what right possessed a child, when weapon in hand, and ordered was he, to obliterate the stray.
Is he not human, just as I am, by home, by content, by name?
Seemingly not, in a world wherein one was above other despite all being the same.
A pompous boast, we boast of equality, a word with no true value.
For by birth was I born better than you, and of my luxuries, you will never have a clue.
Dare I complain, in a world wherein, one was above other, despite all being the same?
Naveeda Hussain
Sir Wilfrid Laurier Collegiate Institute, Grade 11
Age 17
Honourable Mention – 2011
New Arrivals in Yemen ©
UNHCR/J.Björgvinsson, March 2007
31
Ignorant Silence
Flesh burned in the heat of the moment,
and my body was thrust to the ground
while in haste to save the sinned.
A scene so unexpected, yet the effect so profound.
I was fated to be conceived
and become a woman in this world,
to withhold an abundance of sorrow
and ache thinking of another tomorrow.
His lavishing gifts, but neglecting ways,
his words of deceit, his lashes of rage.
Intrigued me, be fooled me, and battered my soul,
shattered me into a broken doll.
Must I be provoked, but tried for being provoken?
Don’t I have a right to be heard when spoken?
My oppression needs to be broken,
for society has left it unspoken.
With a right for this trial
in which I can finally speak of a man who abused me,
and a society who induced me.
I am not who society proclaims me to be,
I am a woman of truth and dignity,
but I have been what you should never think to be,
SILENT.
Primiya Sivamoorthi
Fletcher’s Meadow Secondary School, Grade 11
Age 17
Honourable Mention – 2010
A Harrowing Silence
I
The tears of an innocent child
falls silently into the abyss.
They run to escape the heat
of heavens eye; who sees all of course,
but leaves us to decide the fate of mankind.
II
The lashing of their voices,
stirs desolation within the innocent.
Inflicting physical and emotional wounds;
the scars still remain.
Stained, like the etching upon their graves.
These memories will always bear witness.
a haunting verse in life’s bittersweet song.
III
Ignorance is bliss.
Like death’s silent kiss,
we let them slip away.
Our emotions engrossed in trivial concerns,
yet infant still wails in his mother’s arms.
She waits for someone to notice; to be alarmed.
Petals of optimism cling to their battered shells,
for one day, the dove will fly high and proud
bearing the olive branch;
dreams are all they have for now.
Kirsten Loritz
Notre Dame Catholic High School, Grade 12
Age 17
Honourable Mention – 2010
Poems: Honourable Me ntions / Group 111 (Grades 9 to 12)
Z (dedicated to Zahra ‘Zia’ Kazemi)
The autumn leaves were born, and so was I.
With artistic integrity running through my veins,
I was ready to capture the world.
First stop, Iran.
My heart travelled with me,
as I went from the fluer-de-lis to the maple leaf.
Passion, attached with a single leather strap,
dangling gently from my neck.
Seeing the world through a sharp lens,
that held no bias, able to see justice.
Colors, skilfully chosen,
mixed to black, support each other.
I preserve their identity
From the sands of war, to the seas of poverty.
Confinement and crowding,
I bring awareness to the suffering human condition
Life a chameleon, I blend with my subjects,
Studying every move.
My journey ended,
as I entered the place that once was an image,
On a reel of devotion.
Broken, I left the world on a cold cement level.
Accident or murder, the choice is yours.
But you can just call me Ziba
Maddie Usher
Oakville Trafalgar High School, Grade 12
Age 17
Honourable Mention – 2010
32
Someday
The rain poured down as if in mourning.
I feel like pitying myself but held back.
I have to be stronger each day
In order to survive.
I feel the cold seeping into my bones.
The cartons I call my shelter will not last.
I am not homeless you see.
I had a home, a family, a village,
Until they came and took it away.
As my father told me to run. I couldn’t help but look back: a burning village
Forever gone.
I walked endlessly,
Until my feet were muddy red.
Aboard a ship, I came to this place.
A foreign land I do not know.
I was 13 then
Constantly struggling in this world.
Where my tears have gone dry,
My cry, now silent gone into darkness.
I have long forgotten what it’s like
To feel safe and to belong.
Yet, as I stood waiting for the sun, I smiled.
Someday I will find a place to call my own.
Richel Castaneda
Georges Vanier Secondary School, Grade 12
Age 18
Honourable Mention – 2010
Poems: Honourable Me ntions / Group 111 (Grades 9 to 12)
At Times, We Are All Refugees
Perhaps this city is crowded with the living
Some live in big houses and others without homes,
Where do we live?
The officer sipped his coffee in dread and said:
“You have a passport, that means you dead”
We are still alive.
At a time we had a country and believed it was good
Review the map, it is visibly there
We cannot go back.
I believe thunder was what I heard, or orchestrated music to my ear
When I saw men in proper outfits and holding guns-“Get them all!”
We were not in hiding, so we flee.
We ran through the woods, saw animals running free
No one to tell them how to be
they were not human, not like you and me.
My skin black or olive tone
Is what I hear people yelling, not alone
We are all together
Thoughts of skyscrapers and high-rises
Many doors and many windows
But no, not mine, or yours, to theirs.
Last and not fair, the children are in scared
Kneeling and bonding in despair, the easiest targets
Lest we forget...
Jocelyn Arcentales
Cardinal Newman Catholic High School, Grade 12
Age 17
Honourable Mention – 2010
33
Hu Jia: One of Many
In Beijing, China a man was born
Out of a womb, into a political battlefield.
This man strives to give voice to those who have none,
And whether charged with subverting state authority, or harming state security,
All false accusations will fall
Even Buddha has opened his eyes and shared his wondrous treasures.
A wisdom unchallenged by any man,
A simple truth,
A free heart.
However, through his heart may be unbound
He is a caged bird, a criminal in the eyes of his own government,
Shunted for his public reports on human injustice,
And jailed. Christmas break. 2008. For 3.5 years.
Under a law that does not exist.
A once strong and proud man, now a gaunt and ghostly shadow.
Hu’s health is diminishing, even as we speak.
Amnesty International is the only one to seek justice:
His immediate and unconditional release.
World leaders must speak up.
It is time to act the part and command attention.
If awareness is brought to light there will be nowhere left flee,
Nowhere to scurry,
And nowhere to hide.
Justice will be served.
Jennifer Hall
Oakville Trafalgar High School, Grade 12
Age 17
Honourable Mention – 2010
How soon is now?
On our darkest nights
We can rely on the moonlight
to find our way through,
but can’t anybody see we’ve got a war to fight here?
Somewhere in the heart of a hero
lies a dream dreamt by refugees
globally who don’t have a choice in the fact of the matter.
Their lives can only begin with the key
of freedom that is padlocked by a volt protected
by the world’s corrupt ways.
Hope hides inside this volt
while fear strikes at those who are left endlessly waiting
and only yearn to start living.
At the end of the day the choice is yours
regardless of what they say
allow the sun to rise and rinse out the darkest hour of our days
and bring enough power to help the hopeless
Justin Guzman-Moniz
Cardinal Newman Catholic High School, Grade 9
Age 15
Honourable Mention – 2010
Poems: Honourable Me ntions / Group 111 (Grades 9 to 12)
34
On the Outside Looking In
I can barely hear the news on the small T.V.
Over the din
And all the other people living
In this place worse than any I’ve ever been
Feeling the same way I’m feeling
Sad and alone, I don’t want to hide
I’m stuck on the inside
Just looking in
On the T.V. screen that’s so hard to see
I don’t understand why this is the way
It has to be
I never thought
That this would be me
Watching my home burn on this broken T.V.
Crowded
With all the other people living with me
All the tears I see being shed
For all the men that have bled
And the women that have tried to mend
The broken hearts of their children to no end
The war on my home seems unwilling to bend
To leave us in peace
For that I pray, at least
Hanaan Alkoka
Rick Hansen Secondary School, Grade 9
Age 15
Honourable Mention – 2010
Poems: Honourable Me ntions / Group 111 (Grades 9 to 12)
The Flower of Peace
The city was noisy
Their noises were running through the city
The sky was filled with the black smoke
Tanks were roaring
They were moving as fast as a cheetah
Looking for their prey
Houses were collapsed
Blood was everywhere, making a river, passing
through the middle of the city
Noises were everywhere
Among them was a plangent voice
What was that voice?
Where was it coming from?
Is it a voice from a mother?
Who lost her child in the war
Who is crying like a raining cloud
Or is it a crying voice from a child
Who lost his parents in the war
The voices continued
People were crying
Tanks and guns were roaring
And people were dying
I hate war, you hate war, and everyone hates war
So why war, why violence and why force
So let’s get up to plant the flower of PEACE!
Shaghayegh Sepehri
Alexander Mackenzie High School, Grade 10
Age 15
Honourable Mention – 2010
Pakistan Earthquake: A Race Against the Weather ©
UNHCR/B.Baloch
35
COSTI Immigrant Services is a community-based multicultural agency providing employment, educational, and social
services to new Canadians and individuals in need of assistance. Since 1952, COSTI has been helping those in need,
assisting newcomer professionals and all individuals looking for employment, providing hope to refugee families,
protecting women and children, strengthening families, combating racism and discrimination, and assisting all those
who function at a disadvantage in society. With a staff of more than 300 people, speaking over 60 languages, COSTI
works with all communities and vulnerable populations in need of assistance.
COSTI is committed to creating a community where there is respect and equity for all and to this end, strives to
ensure that all individuals, regardless of language, cultural, or financial barriers, are given the opportunity to use their
existing skills, learn new ones, and participate in all aspects of Canadian life. COSTI presently provides support to over
39,000 individuals annually.
ABOUT COSTI IMMIGRANT SERVICES
ABOUT COSTI IMMI GRANT SERVIC ES
36
The Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees was established on December 14, 1950 by the
United Nations General Assembly.
The agency is mandated to lead and co-ordinate international action to protect refugees and resolve refugee problems
worldwide. Its primary purpose is to safeguard the rights and well-being of refugees. It strives to ensure that everyone
can exercise the right to seek asylum and find safe refuge in another State, with the option to return home voluntarily,
integrate locally or to resettle in a third country. It also has a mandate to help stateless people.
In more than six decades, the agency has helped tens of millions of people restart their lives. Today, a staff of some 6,123
people in more than 125 countries continues to help some 36.4 million persons.
ABOUT THE UNITED NATIONS HIGH
COMMISSIONER FOR REFUGEES (UNHCR)
ABOUT THE UNIT ED NATIONS HIGH COMMISSION ER FOR REFUGEES (UN HCR )
37
This contest was open to all aspiring poets who are students in Grades 4-12 and attending schools in the Greater
Toronto Areas. Poems were requested to be written in English with a maximum of 24 lines. Awards were given based
on the following three grade categories for a total of three first prizes: Group I grades 4-5-6, Group II grades 7-8,
Group III grades 9-10-11-12. All entries were judged on the basis of originality, creative imagination, characterization,
artistic quality, adherence to the topic, and rules established for the contest.
The judging panel consisted of members of COSTI Immigrant Services, the Maytree Foundation, the United Nations
High Commissioner for Refugees – Toronto, York University and famous Canadian essayist and poet.
On June 20th each year, the winning poets are invited to the Toronto World Refugee Day celebrations to be honoured
and to receive their award.
ABOUT THE POETRY CONTEST
ABOUT THE PO ETR Y CONT EST
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Mario J. Calla has a Master of Social Work degree
from the University of Toronto. He has served as the
Executive Director of COSTI Immigrant Services
since 1987.
Mario is involved in his community on a volunteer
capacity. He is immediate past-President of the
Community Social Planning Council of Toronto
and currently serves on the Board of the Catholic
Children’s Aid Society of Toronto, as well as the
Board of TRIEC and Chairs its Board Development
Committee. He has served as Chair of the City of
York Community and Agency Social Planning Council;
Vice-President of the Ontario Council of Agencies
Serving Immigrants and Vice-President of International
Social Services of Canada, among other activities.
Mario has served on the Minister’s Roundtable on
Fair Access to Regulated Professions and on the
Minister’s Advisory Group on Mental Health and
Addictions for the Province of Ontario.
JUD GES PRO FILES
Tina Edan is Manager of Leadership Programs at
Maytree and a board member with the Toronto
Public Library and the Federation of Ontario Public
Libraries. She holds an MA in communications from
Concordia University and has worked with a variety
of non profit organizations on issues such as diversity,
immigrant and refugee narratives, women’s rights, antiracism
and poverty.
Tina’s commitment to social change extends to her
work as a literary curator and writer. She has served
as a juror for the Toronto Book Awards, Ontario Arts
Council and Diaspora Dialogues and is an alumnus of
the Voices of Our Nations Arts Foundation (VONA)
at the University of San Francisco. Tina has previously
curated the literary stage at Toronto’s Masala!
Mehndi! Masti! Festival and performed her poetry in
Toronto, Vancouver and San Francisco. Her work has
been published in TOK: Writing the New Toronto
and has appeared in a number of literary installations
across Toronto, including the ARCFest Human Rights
Festival and Doors Open Toronto. In 2009 she was a
finalist in the Toronto Arts Council Foundation’s Get
Lit! Competition.
Mario JUDGES J. Calla Tina Edan
PROFILES
41
JUDGES PROFILES
Rana Khan is a human rights lawyer who has worked
with the United Nations High Commissioner for
Refugees since 1994, as Regional Legal Officer for
Ontario. In addition to the work she has done for
the UNHCR in Canada, Rana has also taken part in
some of the organization’s international operations
for refugee protection and humanitarian assistance
serving in Angola and Kosovo. One example of
her keen interest in promoting human rights is the
initiation of the Child and Youth Poetry Contest
on Human Rights and Refugees in partnership with
COSTI Immigrant Services.
Goran Simic (1952) was born in Bosnia-Herzegovina
where he published number of volumes of poetry,
stories, plays and radio plays including ten puppet plays
and three opera librettos that was produced in ex
Yugoslavia, UK and Germany. Back in Bosnia he was
editor of several literary magazines, newspaper book
columnist and book shop owner. After surviving the
Bosnian war and siege of Sarajevo (1992-1995) he
immigrated to Canada with his two children in 1996.
Coming to Canada he was resident of UofT Massey
College, Writer-in Exile at the Banff Centre for the
Arts and University of Guelph. His poetry books was
translated in more that ten languages and his poetry
included in several world anthologies such as Scanning
the Century and numerous anthologies in Canada
and former Yugoslavia. He was awarded the Helman-
Hammet award, PEN-USA Freedom to Write award ,
People’s Award in Canada, as well as numerous prizes
from the former Yugoslavia.
His published books include: Sprinting from the
Graveyard (Oxford University Press), Immigrant Blues
(Brick Books), From Sarajevo with Sorrow (Biblioasis),
Yesterday’s People (Biblioasis). In 2010 he published
short stories Looking for Tito (Frog Hollow Press) and
poetry collection Sunrise in the eyes of the Snowman
(Biblioasis). Recently he moved to Edmonton as a
Writer in Exile at University of Alberta.
Priscila Uppal is a poet, novelist and York University
English and Graduate Studies professor. Her
international publications include Ontological
Necessities (shortlisted for the $50,000 Griffin
Poetry Prize), Traumatology, Successful Tragedies
(Bloodaxe Books, U.K.), and Winter Sport: Poems
(written as Canadian Athletes Now poet-in-residence
for the 2010 Olympic and Paralympic Games; she will
resume the position in London in 2012), the novels
The Divine Economy of Salvation and To Whom It
May Concern, and the study We Are What We Mourn:
The Contemporary English-Canadian Elegy. Her
works have been translated into numerous languages
including Dutch, Greek, Korean, Latvian, Italian, and
Serbo-Croatian. Time Out London U.K. recently
dubbed her “Canada’s coolest poet.” For more
information visit priscilauppal.ca.
Rana Khan Goran Simic Pricilla Uppal
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