Patchwork

I remember the chase, the flight, the terror, the panic, the pain,
the anger, the serenity, the storm, the pity, the thirst, the joy? the
sudden end.

Climbing trees and seeing my Dad when he came home from work, the play
fights we used to have on the lawn outside, me struggling with his
strength. The way he picked me up and flew me round the house,
pretending we were going on a magical adventure into strange lands,
making me laugh, making my mother laugh. The days out searching rock
pools for crabs, making sandcastles with my little bucket and
spade?

my mother reading stories to me at night, singing me to sleep, teaching
me how to read and write, to add up numbers, taking me for walks in the
park?

my grandmother taking care of me on days when both my parents were
working; my Grandad's cheeky smile and infectious laughter, his
boundless energy, the smell of tobbaco, the curiosity of seeing his
rolling papers stuck to his tin. Wondering what it would be like to
smoke. Playing with the wooden toys he would make, watching him working
wood and wishing I could do that as well. Hours spent getting lost in
my imagination flying free in the wonder of my granma's magical garden
and the woods beyond, and how she would smile to see me so happy, and I
was happy really happy? life was like a great place of wonder.

I look back with a strange reluctance at a different person, with
different ideas, different thoughts? different?

Egotistical longings of twisted searching yearning helter skelter candy
coloured lands of lust and despair?. More more more? addiction?

The discovery of acid, the most intense experience of all; the
disintegration of all thought, all emotion, the beginning of a new
philosphy; head will never again be the same, but who cares, for now
just enjoy the show.

open my arms to him, but he does not see me.

Takes the line of white powder up his nose, sits back, sniffs and rolls
himself another joint; then laughs at shadows, smiles at nothing, and
then suddenly weeps uncontrollably because that is how he really feels?
paranoid and alone with nothing, sad, afraid?

if only

The teenage lad is reaching for something, accidently knocks down a
plate, it breaks on the floor; panic, fear and wham the hand swipes him
from behind, knocks him to the ground, he looks up stunned at the
twisted face of his angry stepfather. Tries to get away? wham, the foot
hurts his side, he is crying?

No no stop?

Alone in the darkness of the room, dark thoughts breed in the Hell of a
hurting mind? hatred swells? twist off the cap for the bottle of
pills.. say a prayer? Jesus loves me.. swallow each one? go on?

No don't? don't let him get to you like that? be stronger than
him...

Sat in the backseat of a car, his mother turns round: "Me and your
father are going to have a divorce." The boy looks out of the window at
his father, he is in another car about a hundred yards in front looking
back at him through the windscreen, hands on the steering wheel,
sadness, pain, tears stream down the boy's confused face.
"Why?"

"Because I don't love him anymore. We can no longer live
together."

"Where is he going? Will I see him again?"

"He is going back up North? he will come to visit sometimes."

"Why? why? why?" this severance, this sudden change to his world?

The silent anguish, the uncontrollable tears, the tearing apart inside,
the breaking up? the wrenching pulling apart.

Sat alone by a campfire under the stars, black charred hands and a
plastic mug of coffee. The young man pokes the fire with a stick, then
sits back on the tattered blanket, wonders where he will be tommorrow.
He is hungry, hasn't eaten all day, but when he gets to the next town
sometime tommorrow he will work hard at busking and maybe get a meal.
He flicks through the pages of his book?

rain pours down, clothes and bag are soaked, desperately seeking some
kind of shelter in the trees, but can't escape the storm; walks for
hours, finally sleeps the night in a bus shelter. Cold and shivering on
the hard concrete, he wakes up to see someone getting off the bus, and
people pointing from the windows laughing at him lying there in a
battered old blanket. With a groan, he gets up and walks into
town?

watching the sea crash into the rocks, alone on a remote island miles
away from anyone? alone?

his mother standing at the door, holding a postcard he had sent, the
happiness of seeing him still alive, she lets him stay, lets him rest
until he can find his own place, all the anger and bitterness of the
past forgotten, forgiven, in the relief of him being alive? her
son.

lights, music, dancing, uplifting energy, purpose, everything is going
to be ok, love, joy, community, the mindblowing power of ecstasy, I
want more more more? and

... comedown, sad, paranoid, bleak, crazy? unemployed? pen to paper?
write to find..

the love of a woman, the joy of belonging to another?

movement and happiness being in her arms; teaching me to feel secure
again, to trust the future...

I wait in apprehensive excitement; as deep in her belly a new heart
beats, something we made together in love, but how? This miracle of
life. His little fingers moving. Will I be a good father? I hope
so..

a sudden?

Snap twist recoil, the dragon comes to a stop, it is time to get off. I
step onto new ground, the past is behind me now, the dragon turns and
leaves, becomes a distant dot in the sky.

I search the rucksack of my mind and bind up all the memories I have
into one cord, hold the weave in my heart.

And walk forward?