The Suitcase BY NEBIY MEKONNEN TRANSLATED BY MITIKU ADISU At airport terminal luggage zone A conveyor belt goes round and Comes around; A suitcase with no owner, Tagged and leisurely making the rounds, Revolving as it wandered. It could be a depository of knowledge Or of items of little worth. A suitcase under lock & key; Zippers under gag order; What is it about shut and dark spaces? This suitcase turns, turns some more, Returns, glides by again; Twirls like a young lady standing on her head; A suitcase none would pick up; A suitcase unable to get off the belt; A suitcase unable to get off abroad Or duly return to its homeland; It keeps moving back and forth like a thought; It moves sideways, Like rainwater rolling on the green; Exile is just that— A nation losing its conscience; Conscience forcing one to flee; To flee to interior self; To flee on other’s behalf; Subjected to alien heartaches; A flower deprived
biblical | informative | independent