Baker, Shukri
Transcript
The Long Walk by Shukri Abu Baker
November 24 marks my 14th anniversary in enforced disappearance.
I am, therefore, declaring November Injustice Awareness Month: IAM.
They told me I was going home.
I ran, called my wife, she dropped a dish and cried. She said she would buy herself a nice dress and me a new pair of jeans, since I had shrunk in size. She said, prepare to be surprised. I said, I love you too. Separation must end.
I put on my good sneakers, warmed up, breathed in and out. I saw home, door opened, kisses big and small perched on my cheeks. Long trip, but love drives with no regrets, no pauses. Sweat, swollen legs. Pain pulled, I kept pushing.
Her dress, pretty. Life, roses. I walked.
Earth spun around the sun and I around my stolen wings. Time moved;
I didn’t. They said I was going home on foot, but home kept waiting.
I bit my lip, bent the knee. Cried.
This stupid treadmill in this ugly gym.
No window dressing, prison isn’t home.
Not surprised. Heartbroken.
11-18-2022
