The Room That Raised Me
Poem by Ahmed Moallim
posted on 23.01.2026
I was born in conflict.
Not just where borders collapse, not just where bombs rain,
But inside a house where survival hummed beneath every breath.
First lullabies; sirens echoing through my mother's chest,
her warm voice weaving soft prayers,
Young and unready, a child herself.
Carrying my sister and I through storms, never granting permission.
Crossing lands the way faith crosses hearts;
Quietly, Painfully, without Applause.
Two years later, my brother was born,
A soul whose world moves differently,
Who needs constant hands, constant eyes,
Constant love since the day he first gripped me.
Learning responsibility,
before what it means to play.
Learning medication schedules, meltdowns,
and the meaning of patience while lacking sleep.
I was born in conflict.
Raised in conflict.
Moulded by conflict.
Even scolded by conflict.
It was the air I breathed before I knew I was breathing.
And though I never asked for it,
It gave me the kind of awareness I was seeking -
Why I feel danger before it speaks,
How I feel tension before it breaks,
How to hold space for chaos and still find order inside of that place.
For years, I thought that it was normal;
To live Alert, to live Tense, to live Twice.
Generalised Anxiety Disorder,
they later called it,
But back then, it was just life.
I didn’t know what peace looked like,
Only the pauses between explosions.
Very early I found this room.
And something in the air felt different.
Here,
Silence wasn’t punishment - it was Practice.
Questions raised in front of me like mirrors.
Where do you stand? Someone once asked,
And I realised I’d been standing halfway all my life.
That day, I planted both feet.
In this room,
I learned conflict doesn’t always burn.
Sometimes it’s the distance between what I feel and what’s beneath my silence,
Sometimes it’s the trembling before truth finds oxygen
We learned to hold This Space - in This Room,
to let a Hand Pulse speak when language fails,
Listening before thinking,
To breathe before Interpreting.
By Playing with Fire I learned how to face the heat without burning,
Through reflection, I learned to slow the Conflict Machine inside myself,
The gears of betrayal, hurt, fear and yearning.
Slowly, Painfully, Safely,
What had been survival became Understanding,
What had been fear became Awareness,
What had been pain became Purpose.
This room didn’t just give me the Practice for turning Pain into Presence,
It gave me a Framework,
For life,
How to lead with empathy even when my flame needs another’s light.
In this room I learned to rebuild what I came from;
To change the atmosphere in my home,
To turn chaos into communication,
To live in service, to protect,
To lead through Virtuous Cycles while breaking the Vicious Ones.
To The Pioneers, The Architects,
To the giants whose shoulders we learn and play, To the OG’s of This Room,
The ones who turned experience into a science of hope,
Who mapped out safety where there was none.
Who taught us all to Play with Fire without burning,
To see the Machinery that keeps conflict turning,
and to love people enough to facilitate learning;
You built this room -
Circle by circle, Ink on paper, Truth on tongue,
Trusting those who came after,
To keep the Rhythm of its Heartbeat alive.
I carry that trust like a torch. Lighting every other room that I walk,
Offering an ear, a heart, offering a journey back to the start…. Of This Room.
I’m honoured to be here, in This Same Room,
With the same walls,
The same heartbeat,
Surrounded by the same purpose that raised me.
Some faces may have changed, new ones too,
but the flame hasn’t.
And I tell every young person who enters this room,
This Same message:
You don’t have to escape that Story;
You can rewrite it in the Present.
Alhamdulillah for the mother who crossed storms,
For the brother who teaches me Patience,
For the mentors who turned Pain into Practice,
for God who never burdened me with more than I could bear.
The Room that raised me is still raising Us All.
And when we depart this world,
This Flame needs to keep burning,
I believe it will of course!
Shaping new hands, lighting new paths.
Because sustainability isn’t just in funding bids or new strategies;
it’s people who refuse to let This Light go out.
It’s the next facilitator finding their voice.
It’s the next young person choosing peace.
It’s every circle that forms after ours,
Every question that starts with What, Why and How.
This is the Legacy.
This is the Life-work.
I was born in conflict. Yet,
In this room;
Conflict,
Is still Burning,
Still Becoming,
Still Transforming.
by Ahmed Moallim
