NAPKIN DIARY CONTINUES

 NAPKIN DIARY CONTINUES, (AN IMMIGRANT)

Do not talk politics

Do not write about politics

Politics is just politics

It's total waste of your time and talent.

You must have learnt that by now.

Especially for an immigrant,  it's totally devastating

To talk about politics.

The most difficult and heart breaking thing is to immigrate

For whatever reason...

In my case,

What was the reason?

Stupidity...I guess

No reason

Just an urge for dislocation and destruction

Not knowing it 

Obviously not knowing it at all...

One never expects the heart breake till the time comes...

Till the damage is done...

The idea of politics in the first world is to

Keep the empire going...

The immigrant is usually from the third world

And is right away looked down upon...

And if one talk about politics...

One is never taken seriously and is always told

"TO GO BACK IF YOU ARE UNHAPPY."

ONE IS NOT ALLOWED TO SHOW ONE'S UNHAPPINESS

IT'S A HAPPY COUNTRY

SUPPOSEDLY....

But the heart break of the immigrant continues

And after a long time you realize

That your heart has been slowly breaking

And now it's fully broken.

you immigrate to for what ever reason...

Now you have no home land

And a fully broken heart...

Heart in a thousand little pieces...

The country you immigrate to

For whatever reason, 

Freedom, Expression of your thoughts,

Resistence to what seems wrong,

Adventure...

Mostly impossibel...

Perhaps ok for whoever comes here for money

Can make tons of it...

But they are not worried about what's wrong in the world

And why humanity is suffering from the acts of

Empires...

They are thinking money and money comes

Mostly by illegal means

Especially when you become a millionaire or even billionairs

On the broken backs and broken dreams of others...'

Others who are people of conscious...

But otherwise after living here for decades,

It suddenly and (maybe not so suddenly) hits you,

That you had been afraid of an un-known

And a vague fear of being a total outsider,

Of not being liked for one reason or the other,

Of not belonging, never belonging

And now all of a sudden this tremendous feeling of fear

That you might never be able to leave this country

Which is still so foreign to you

Their ways, their language, their politics

You might never be able to go back to the country

You came from...

No home left there for you...

And even you go for a visit by some good luck,

You might not be able to come back...

Come back to where you have lived for decades...

There is a ban at the border, at the customs,

At the port of entry...for certain religions...

Now what must you do?

There is an ocean in between the country you already left

And the country who don't allow you back in...

Ban, a ban, a ban, a ban on you...

No matter how much trauman you might have suffered here

In your new country, the ban is the biggest trauma

On your psyche because it is because of your religion...

I keep wondering...

Should I pack my important tthings in suitcases,

My writing, my drawings, some special scarves,

Letters from my deceased parents,

Things attached to my memories...

Should I pack those things in huge suitcases,

In huge trunks in case they don't let me back in,

Then my husband perhaps will be able to ship them

But ship them where?

The country I left behind...

The country I went to visit...

But where will i store all my suitcases?

I don't have a home back home...

I am worried that if I don't pack my important memory in those trunks...

He won't know what to pack?

Those are not his memories

He won't be able to locate them...

I must pack before I leave...

I might not be allowed back in...

There is a ban at the border...

My husbanfd would be too heart broken to pack my things

He loves me...

But they won't let me in...

So in order to make my American husband's life easier

I must pack everything precious to me before I go to visit

My ailing sister...

I must do that

Because they might not let this immigrant in from a certain country

With a certain religion...

This was never my home

This was never my country

Otherwise why won't they let me back in?