Empty-handed

"No files," says the voice emboldened
by the bullet-proof glass.
"Just take out all the necessary papers
and put them on the tray."

The tall, long-limbed, and Sudanese man
is visibly at unease in his dark coffee skin.
He gives an awkward smile while fumbling with his papers.

"Etfadalee," he says, asking her politely to proceed.
She proceeds.
"Why do you want to go to Germany?"
"Why is your son living in Germany?"
"Will you come back?"
"Wait, do you have permission to live
here?"

Hassan from Djuba village answers
deferentially
His son, Djamal, is an engineer in Munich,
Hassan says it with a small hint of pride
for Djamal is not a refugee.

"Yes," he says, "I will come back."
He does not say, "Insha Allah.
I am old and will soon die,
and life - I know - gives no guarantees.
For what happens if there is a volcano cloud
laughing ashes on your plans?"

Hassan had seen the man before him in line
refused an appointment, "You forgot
your medical insurance and bank statement.
Please make another appointment."

He saw the man gather his papers,
heavier with disappointment,
"Please," Hassan begged God, "For once, I pray,
Let me return empty-handed."