When I was a child I talked like a child,
I thought like a child, I was not
allowed to play with older children.
In church I listened to the creaking of the ceiling fans.
I wanted to fly into the apse. I could never keep new shoes clean.
When I drew on the bulletins my pencil became dull and stayed dull.
Once I felt the world embrace me as a son. When I tried to leave, it arrested me. Now I squint my eyes and watch the blurry shapes move and pass on.
One winter when I was a boy I went to a friend's house to play in the snow. The snow seemed to give me energy and I felt safe in my thick snow gear. I decided to fall onto my back, sure that my soft coat would protect me and that the snow would embrace my body but it did not. The sharp impact of the hard ground was alarming. My head hit the ground and I felt as though something had been knocked into my throat. I could not decide if I smelled or tasted blood and my eyes glazed over with tears. I stared at the dull orange sky, colored by the street-lights reflecting off the snow.
The game we were playing seemed to have sufficient momentum to continue without me so I just lay there, attentive to my surroundings. Looking, smelling, listening to quiet, feeling warm, and not thinking about anything.
All images Copyright 2013 John Caisley All rights reserved.