Detention: #8 = ♾ Infinity (Indefinite)
Joel Mordi
A place crawling with haunting memories
The birth place of countless deaths
The dawn of new horrors
Teeming with fear, reeks of uncertainties, tales of chaos, mishaps and mayhem are morning glories and night tales.
In this confinement people are numbers and numbers are people.
Through my queer eye, verbal abuse is the least of my worry. And within my humanity, worst case scenarios are my bedrock.
Immigration bail, calls for a fanfare
Freedom at last, or so we thought
Until your direction takes a dramatic twist
Deportation? An astonishing turn of events
The king of fears, inspiring chronic insomnia, unforgiving depression, crippling anxiety, disassociation, recurrent nightmares disguised as sleep, endless dosage of suicidal episodes and PTSD is your bunk mate.
“8” The number of detentions in the UK
“♾”: tilted sideways: “Infinity”. The duration of detention time? “Indefinite”.
With every immigration removal centre mirroring the other,
Each one competing for the golden prize in the Olympics of torment.
Outdoing each other in the sheer number of deaths and abuse
Enabling rape, starvation, deprivation, isolation, aggression, emotional numbness (the list is endless)
As a fresh detainee you’re welcomed with gaze of uncertainties
A stare of a thousand sad stories
Each one blank!
And if you look long enough, you’ll see the endless unspoken, unwritten stories of others!
Some already dead, others a living funeral
Like many before me,
Forgotten, rejected, unwelcome
Tears rolling in tandem with laughter
And with every pain a new scar
I lost count, the count of many serrated skins
“Self-harm” is the getaway
“Rape” is the reward
“Serial smoking and gambling” are the theme of each day
Be a “buddy” and make an income
Join a gang and be protected (albeit it sure does come with a price)
Some resent you, others smile, from staff, trickling down to fellow detainees, the lines blur and I can’t tell different
Nights are long and days just as long
The wire meshes above reminds me, I’m but a caged bird.
For the times I long to see the sky and the clouds in day and night
Searching for the moon and stars
Wondering in endless gaze, tears and goosebumps reassure me, as the radio sounds off.
I go to bed uncertain, and wake up glued to the bed unmotivated and tired
My sleep was a battle, a lie; a struggle with a second and third party
I lost, my doors are never truly shut, just a touch and it ushers you in, in excitement.
I am a target, a human target
Sadly, visibly queer in the wrong places
Yes, stereotypes exist, and I fit into one, we all do
Oh wait! CHILDREN ARE HERE TOO?!
Little did I know detention was only the beginning
Life beyond the walls was even worse! Welcome to “LIMBO”.
The other side of freedom you longed for...
You still think yourself “freed?”
The joke is on me.
The birth place of countless deaths
The dawn of new horrors
Teeming with fear, reeks of uncertainties, tales of chaos, mishaps and mayhem are morning glories and night tales.
In this confinement people are numbers and numbers are people.
Through my queer eye, verbal abuse is the least of my worry. And within my humanity, worst case scenarios are my bedrock.
Immigration bail, calls for a fanfare
Freedom at last, or so we thought
Until your direction takes a dramatic twist
Deportation? An astonishing turn of events
The king of fears, inspiring chronic insomnia, unforgiving depression, crippling anxiety, disassociation, recurrent nightmares disguised as sleep, endless dosage of suicidal episodes and PTSD is your bunk mate.
“8” The number of detentions in the UK
“♾”: tilted sideways: “Infinity”. The duration of detention time? “Indefinite”.
With every immigration removal centre mirroring the other,
Each one competing for the golden prize in the Olympics of torment.
Outdoing each other in the sheer number of deaths and abuse
Enabling rape, starvation, deprivation, isolation, aggression, emotional numbness (the list is endless)
As a fresh detainee you’re welcomed with gaze of uncertainties
A stare of a thousand sad stories
Each one blank!
And if you look long enough, you’ll see the endless unspoken, unwritten stories of others!
Some already dead, others a living funeral
Like many before me,
Forgotten, rejected, unwelcome
Tears rolling in tandem with laughter
And with every pain a new scar
I lost count, the count of many serrated skins
“Self-harm” is the getaway
“Rape” is the reward
“Serial smoking and gambling” are the theme of each day
Be a “buddy” and make an income
Join a gang and be protected (albeit it sure does come with a price)
Some resent you, others smile, from staff, trickling down to fellow detainees, the lines blur and I can’t tell different
Nights are long and days just as long
The wire meshes above reminds me, I’m but a caged bird.
For the times I long to see the sky and the clouds in day and night
Searching for the moon and stars
Wondering in endless gaze, tears and goosebumps reassure me, as the radio sounds off.
I go to bed uncertain, and wake up glued to the bed unmotivated and tired
My sleep was a battle, a lie; a struggle with a second and third party
I lost, my doors are never truly shut, just a touch and it ushers you in, in excitement.
I am a target, a human target
Sadly, visibly queer in the wrong places
Yes, stereotypes exist, and I fit into one, we all do
Oh wait! CHILDREN ARE HERE TOO?!
Little did I know detention was only the beginning
Life beyond the walls was even worse! Welcome to “LIMBO”.
The other side of freedom you longed for...
You still think yourself “freed?”
The joke is on me.
Joel Mordi is a social science student, writer, and activist: he is a leading voice in the niche of Sustainable Development, speaker at offline/online conferences, co-written an academic article with Olive, given LGBT+ themed presentations/panels with the University of York and an interview with the University of East London.
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