I moved to Jordan in 2019 excited to explore the Middle East but apart from a trip to Beirut to celebrate turning 40 last November, I’ve experienced nothing beyond this tiny country because of COVID. Jordan has had some of the toughest restrictions globally. In March we weren’t allowed to leave our apartments for weeks on end; they instead sent round buses with bread and water to prevent starvation. Every week since this lifted there has been disruption. Lockdown here means just that; you don’t leave your apartment for any reason. Friends and family in the UK complaining of lockdown whilst still posting images of their daily walks around the city or countryside sometimes bear the brunt of my wrath. I’m not leaving though; I’m determined to see this through and see what the Middle East has to offer. It has to get better.

I wake to nothing but the wilderness. 
There’s a dove chittering forcefully; 
sitting fat and free amongst the fig tree’s branches 
that explore the terrace by my bedroom.
Inside, I lie detained in a mound of rumpled hot sheets.

Warrior pose. Child’s pose. Savasana. 
I try to shake off passivity and focus on my weary breath
but give up to lie comatose on the squeaky purple mat.
Listen instead to the whine of the mosquito
whose unfettered wings prance and taunt.
Beside me the cat yawns and stretches luxuriously.
And the clocks tick on.

Upstairs the neighbour lights up a shisha 
so pungent apple and blackberry fumes can
waft outside and spread their tendrils wherever they like.
The blinds upstairs screech as they’re pulled up
and Umm Kalthum slides through the air from a distant radio. 
From somewhere a dog barks lazily.

Mid afternoon and the mosque cranks up the adhan 
but it sounds torpid from the tower.
Even the Muezzin speaks his monotone indolent
casting adrift his haunting chant echoing over the wadi.
‘God is the Greatest.’

God. Is. The. Greatest.
Is he though?
Inside my silent penitentiary lie my yardbird
plans and crossed out post-it notes, 
diary entries scribbled over in blue biro;
the drawers bear witness to crumpled plane tickets.
My passport slumbers in a cupboard.

And the clocks tick on.