Chains

Transit camps dispersed, overland to Basra,

over seas, watching for tell tale periscopes,

to Karachi. Hints of permanence, schools

needing teachers, an offer of employment

in the French Embassy. Reined in tight,

too young, too soon. On the move again,

East Africa. First sight of Fort Jesus’s lowering

face. The first link breaks, reaching the age

of majority. Instant reaction, sign on the dotted

line, no longer the child, fresh faced recruit

of the Polish Air Force, one of the girls,

there in the hangar of hanging silk,

folding, packing, stacking, preparing

for you, who floated to earth near

Pegasus Bridge, or you who drifted too far

at Arnhem, shattering continental chains.

This takes my Mother from Tehran to East Africa via Karachi and links to continuing events in Europe.