stick
𐑕𐑑𐑦𐑒
walking stick
on the conveyor belt
at the airport
the official
picked it up
and called after
the old couple
who had just left
“I think you’ve left this”
they turned back
still fiddling
with belts
and jackets
this was the moment
that I had dreaded
“the stick is mine”
all three
looked at me
mute
I still thought of myself
as a fuckin’ Samurai
I still thought of the stick
as belonging to my dad
it’s not a katana
ssssssik
with its rubber ferrule
thomp thomp
my cheeks burned
with a clamour
I couldn’t name
as I thomp
thomped away
𐑢𐑷𐑒𐑦𐑙 𐑕𐑑𐑦𐑒
𐑪𐑯 𐑞 𐑒𐑪𐑯𐑝𐑱𐑼 𐑚𐑧𐑤𐑑
𐑨𐑑 𐑞 𐑺𐑐𐑹𐑑
𐑞 𐑩𐑓𐑦𐑖𐑩𐑤
𐑐𐑦𐑒𐑛 𐑦𐑑 𐑳𐑐
𐑯 𐑒𐑹𐑤𐑛 𐑨𐑓𐑑𐑼
𐑞 𐑴𐑤𐑛 𐑒𐑳𐑐𐑩𐑤
𐑣𐑵 𐑣𐑨𐑛 𐑡𐑳𐑕𐑑 𐑤𐑧𐑓𐑑
“𐑲 𐑞𐑦𐑯𐑒 𐑿𐑝 𐑤𐑧𐑓𐑑 𐑞𐑦𐑕”
𐑞𐑱 𐑑𐑼𐑯𐑛 𐑚𐑨𐑒
𐑕𐑑𐑦𐑤 𐑓𐑦𐑛𐑩𐑤𐑦𐑙
𐑢𐑦𐑞 𐑚𐑧𐑤𐑑𐑕
𐑯 𐑡𐑨𐑒𐑩𐑑𐑕
𐑔𐑦𐑕 𐑢𐑪𐑟 𐑞 𐑥𐑴𐑥𐑩𐑯𐑑
𐑞𐑨𐑑 𐑲 𐑣𐑨𐑛 𐑛𐑮𐑧𐑛𐑦𐑛
“𐑞 𐑕𐑑𐑦𐑒 𐑦𐑟 𐑥𐑲𐑯”
𐑹𐑤 𐑞𐑮𐑰
𐑤𐑫𐑒𐑛 𐑨𐑑 𐑥𐑰
𐑥𐑿𐑑
𐑲 𐑕𐑑𐑦𐑤 𐑞𐑹𐑑 𐑝 𐑥𐑲𐑕𐑧𐑤𐑓
𐑨𐑟 𐑩 𐑓𐑳𐑒𐑦𐑯 ·𐑕𐑨𐑥𐑩𐑮𐑱
𐑲 𐑕𐑑𐑦𐑤 𐑞𐑹𐑑 𐑝 𐑞 𐑕𐑑𐑦𐑒
𐑨𐑟 𐑚𐑩𐑤𐑪𐑙𐑦𐑙 𐑑 𐑥𐑲 𐑛𐑨𐑛
𐑦𐑑𐑕 𐑯𐑪𐑑 𐑩 𐑒𐑩𐑑𐑭𐑯𐑩
𐑕𐑕𐑕𐑕𐑦𐑒
𐑢𐑦𐑞 𐑦𐑑𐑦 𐑮𐑳𐑚𐑼 𐑓𐑧𐑮𐑘𐑵𐑤
𐑞𐑪𐑥𐑐 𐑞𐑪𐑥𐑐
𐑥𐑲 𐑗𐑰𐑒𐑕 𐑚𐑻𐑯𐑛
𐑢𐑦𐑞 𐑩 𐑒𐑤𐑨𐑥𐑼
𐑲 𐑒𐑫𐑛𐑯𐑑 𐑯𐑱𐑥
𐑨𐑟 𐑲 𐑞𐑪𐑥𐑐
𐑞𐑪𐑥𐑐𐑛 𐑩𐑢𐑱
