Airports Poem by shimon weinroth

I hate going to airports,
to lose myself among so many,
I detest the crowds of flesh,
bags and baggage,

queing up stqnding in line
waiting to serve and be served,
though caught in a meelee
pulling and pushing within reason

protocol is observed
in line, yet lost in a crowd
dwarfed and alone,

my ear tuned to garble of language,
on hearing my mother tongue,
the empathy of belonging,
security of many among many,

alleviates the stifling, somewhat,
I compromise my misanthropic nature
becoming national,
banding together in hostility,

who says,
such feeings
are normal