Scenes from a Civilian Airport in Wartime
“Thank you for your patience during the current state of emergency…”
The young man gets off the plane.
No little girl runs up to greet him.
She might have a bomb
So Security keeps her from coming
Past the lines of beeping archways
Being traversed
By people in stocking feet.
The fellow in T-shirt and jeans
Takes a swig from
His plastic water bottle,
Clutching his helmet with desert coloring
Under his arm.
A big poster
On the airport wall
Reminds employers that
Reservists protect our country
So please so please
Protect their jobs.
(Call this number to find out more.)
Three buddies in black shirts
That say on the back,
“Fire and Rescue, Bagram, Afghanistan,”
Heft big bags of olive drab canvas
Over their shoulders while
They look for a place to buy a beer.
It’s 8AM Mountain Time
But eighteen-thirty in Kabul.
On the television,
Patriotic music plays over scenes of
Red, white, and blue,
Showing heroic figures striding
In artistic slow motion
Toward their NASCAR racers.
The little girl
Sits in the car
Strapped into her safety cocoon,
Looking for the man
She knows only as a video,
A tiny smiling face and voice on
Her mother’s phone.
Over the loudspeaker there’s
A pre-recorded announcement,
Pleasantly feminine,
Reminding people not to leave
Bags unattended
At any time.
A stately Black woman
Wearing a conservative business suit,
Her traveling shoes in one hand,
Holds her arms out
While a man with a uniform and wand
Checks for weapons.
Her face has a calm dignity
That takes everything seriously,
But not personally.
The little girl has a sandbox at home
Where her mother leaves her, sometimes,
Because it’s safe.
Her daddy has been playing
In a big sandbox,
But his sandbox isn’t safe.
