.png)
No pictures, just some words describing a scene while waiting for a flight in the domestic terminal at Yangon Airport.
They were five Off the plane Crossing the airport hall In jungle green
In control – the tallest A ranger hat slouched over his head Protecting a face already turned to stone
On the right flank – the one just grown His teak brown cheeks newly shaven Smooth as planed wood and as unmoved
Then two more – pushing a baggage cart Captives? Cargo? Kin? I couldn’t say …
One was a woman with an idiot’s smile Gawking here and there at the newness of us all One leg dragging
Next to her a stick man almost bald With black eyes that stared and stared
He had a left hand that fluttered like a crow Up to scratch his scabby head it went Then down again to circle and re-circle the other wrist Where A manacle or cuff Might recently have been
And bringing up the rear – the half grown one Not tall enough and not yet seasoned His teeth gritting as if his soul depended on it
My overactive imagination? Perhaps…
What I know for sure
They were five In jungle green Off the plane Crossing the airport hall
A story I couldn’t understand