by release2succeed
I wasn’t there when it happened
so didn’t notice
the years slide by as
they moved forward
and I sat still
silent in my cell
pleasant, dry and numb
to the caterwauling wheels
of everything drifting by.
It only stings when you noticed,
I found.
When jerked to attention by some smell,
some sound,
or simply slipping from ritual,
protective and dull,
into remembrance of another man
in shadows beneath your step
reflecting no light,
little joy.
Not red or green,
but constant amber
to colour-free eyes.
That’s when the laughter and banter
retreats and recoils
into juggled regrets –
getting caught. Being dumb.
All those treasures you lost,
before being aware
and, oh yeah, now you’re aware
and, oh yeah, now how you wish.
Then you wonder, as you do, if anyone
anywhere
mentions your name
even fondly
in passing
across lacquer wood tables
in smokeless dark bars.
You wonder, you do,
under circumstances such,
if a hole still exists
and if so would you fit?
Perhaps best not to know,
perhaps better forget,
there’s a comfortable warmth
in deceit to yourself.
Still it’s times such as these,
inside,
indoors,
when your head takes a trip,
a flight,
a charabanc coach ride,
down narrowing routes
in search of your self
your then self
that ‘what’ ‘if’ ‘maybe’
self
that one you’re forgetting professionally,
but nevertheless
sometimes,
all it would take
would be something so tiny
so small
so meaningless
so everyday life;
a kindness
word
smile
thought or remembrance
as brisk as a twitch
to suggest
that the old forest still knows
and will hear should you fall.
Then someone pressed play,
or again, was it pause?
Poem taken from issue 18 of theRecord.
