Rebirth/Resolutions
The topic for writing group this week:
rebirth/resolutions
Finally! something positive
Something with hope
Something not “murder”.
I spend the week mulling
waiting for some flash of
inspiration
brilliance to impress
them all.
Ideas of threads,
storylines, clever lines of poetry
Flit around like the commonly
picked up and discarded resolutions
of new years
Exercise more/Eat less/Give up
alcohol/coffee/chocolate
***
Late to lunch one day
Driving madly in the pouring rain
Pondering rebirth/resolutions
Sending an “I’m late again!” text
I round the bend
Out of the corner of my eye
A man, a boy really,
Glances around
At the suitcase he is pulling
That is soaking up the water
That is coming in sheets
Over his backpack
Running off his head
Filling the puddle he is wading through.
200 metres down the road I imagine myself
Stopping
Picking him up
Imagine the grateful look
The seats absorbing some of the cold water
Off his body
His suitcase
Imagine
Helping
But I was late
again
My noble imaginings were just that
(only without reality one has to
question the nobility)
Ten minutes later
Ordering my camembert sandwich
Sipping my filter coffee
Boy with the suitcase
Forgotten
Noble imaginings
Gone
In my privileged
Car windows up
Camembert eating
Existence
It feels wrong to think of
to write
clichéd poetry
--that will be discussed over cappuccinos
and Danish pastries at Cork road--
about
rebirth/resolutions
When so many
Dragging suitcases
Through Zimbabwe’s rain storms
Cannot.
