Thursday, 30 March 2017

The Children Shot Me With Their Bubbles

Feeling rough right now.  Much anxiety over something that happens next week.  I know intellectually that anxiety doesn't help.  I know that worrying about it will not change the result in the slightest.  That doesn't help, does it?

On the other hand I took another step forward yesterday and did something I've never done before.  Another step on the plan without a plan.  Even while finding everything very hard I did that.  That's something to celebrate.  Spontaneously.  Because it was the first session of an improvisation course.  Totally out of my comfort zone but it was a lot of fun because the man running it did so in such a way that it could only be a lot of fun.  I'm looking forward to the other seven sessions.

A story.
It didn't happen.
But I have been learning how to play more.
The person who taught me it was okay to own bubble guns and play with them on city streets knows who she is.

Bubble gun. I can see it now.

Attacked by bubbles.
The children laughing at me
Shot me with their gun.

Without permission
And I glared at them, pointed
Angry reaction.

Where are your mothers?
Do they think you should be allowed
To disturb strangers?

I shouted. Saw red
Beyond red. Into crimson black
My rage uncontrolled.

And waving my arms
Approached the closest of them
Seeking full revenge.

Grabbing her weapon
I wrestled it from her hands.
She began to cry.

A boy shouted back
Who the fuck do you think you are
To upset my sister?

It was only then
I stopped. Caught short. Held my breath
Anger stumbled, fell.

Extended vision
I saw the scene from outside
Saw my own sad truth.

Was it really true
I'd forgotten how to play
Lost my innocence?

How had I become
A man fully capable
Of breaking children's hearts?

Falling to my knees
I wept too. For myself first
Then for the poor child.

Tried to apologise
No words sufficient. After
Damaging her freedom.

Handing back her gun.
She placed her hand on my arm
Her smile brought healing.

She began to laugh
Pointed her gun right at me
Shot bubbles in my face.

My tear continued
But I began to laugh too. More.
Big belly guffaws.

I cried tears of joy
She kept attacking me while
Running rings round me.

Later, healed by a child,
I bought a shop's entire stock
Of plastic bubble guns.

Kept one for myself
And gave the rest away
To passing children.

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