Hijacked

Coming down from the plane
at last
with their lives intact
they stumble numbly 
into the light of cameras while

the reporter tells us
of permanent scars:
years from now they will wake
screaming
have an irrational fear of elevators
leave their jobs at a harsh
word.

I saw myself pause on the steps,
the last hostage to leave,
clutching a valise taut with
concealed rainbows
a mask for the cameras with eyes
seared by the moon.