At Customs

At Customs Delayed fatigued grumpy and miserable there was I yet another queue at Oliver Tambo on arrival another Check scan body search and mind games in my baggage Damascus had been an unusual holiday destination had firmly attached a couple of splinters just a bit of Shrapnel trauma displacement on the movie of my soul Amena breathing the rubble with one foot detached collateral damage digitalised toes in my camera Home still smouldering siblings Riham and Yaman with Allah now Sayid coughs up the message of how the planes came planes came again and again planes came planes then mother and father had vanished Assel unable to talk it is difficult to speak without jaw when brain leaks upper jaw lower jaw who cares who minds the statistic So many images am I importing the injustice depravation guilt shame ‘Not in my name’ nameless no frame in the hierarchy of evil Destruction of a sovereign nation and the king makers in the global North West export and import in trauma and transit memories narrative existential angst In the queue at the airport OR Tambo and the tambourine major plays human beings sacrificed on the altar of a simple custom of exporting terror and malice I am importing so much on my return from Damascus yet choose the line ‘Nothing to declare’ but sorry I cannot do this there is no time and you don’t want to know So much pain so much anger on my mind… but I have too much to declare