SOC Writing _ 3 September 2020

Juggernaut

Caught in the thrall of her, I let go, lost in my mind – inhibitions gone – we jump together off the sea wall and she giggles in her maroon jacket. It wasn’t always like this – me cold and hurt and unable to find my joy in her. A mountain now stands between us and unassailable in heights with no roads cut – I just stand and marvel at this thing faith has moved between us. Oh for a little sweetness – a little suckling of flowers and beauty between us. To be seen. Really that’s what my heart hankers on about and she is hurt by the very mention. Mention this, mention that – across a plank I must go counting my steps: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 – I’m alive, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 – I’m dead again. Remember? Remember the times when you were giddy headed boy – those faces, those moments have real purchase right now. Start up a shop, a factory even to manufacture giddiness, and pour yourself into the brand – make it affordable for all – and it becomes a love mark – all want this, all long to be their 12 year old selves in that place where they felt fully able to be themselves with a smile. I don’t know who you are. I have never been able to crack the Morse code of your quiet mode – your carrying plant and child, your uncertainty about self – and the whole teeming world that wants you on display, wants you to paint the town red so it can be purchased, wants you to shine on the show opening night. I am sorry. Still sorry for Africa, and how I pushed into your wound, bruise and break the reed of… me. I leave myself behind in the vain attempt to know you – to become close to your inner workings – the cassette – the gearing – did not connect – my drive train not in train with yours – so we walk our separate ways down the beach – tears so wet they become the ocean – and now, years later I wonder more deeply about you and I - the juggernaut of our shared histories - straining in the eye to see – which part of me belongs to thee – which part of you - I still long to see.