At the Airport

A bag
on the baggage carousel
With no tags attached
and no names to spell
its rusty zippers
and creeky wheels
its skin frayed
and colors greyed
with prospective stares
it is looked at
probed and felt
moved and dealt
it is abandoned
in the end
it’s not the one
it’s not theirs
so it goes back
on the baggage belt
goes back to seeing
and witnessing
all the colors
and shades of grey
bleared bodies
and jaded faces
people waiting
in anticipation
merry, sad,
confused and patient
and one by one
they leave the place
all with their baggage
they leave no trace

that one bag
remains alone
no entries in “lost and found”
I wonder..
what becomes of these?
stray bags,
that do not belong?
Surely, I’ll find out
one day
For I and this bag
On the baggage carousel
May end up
in the same place




4/12/2015 (Multan, Pakistan)


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