Lottery

It’s those memories you’ll never have,
those silly, fun jokes you’ll never hear,
those gold memories you’ll never share,
amongst other aspects, soul longs, craves.

Swamped by adults much taller than you,
your tears form and fall, glistening like dew.

I will never comprehend, making
trips into sort of lottery game.
To me, it’s trite, a light way that’s lame
and bound to bleed hearts, soul shattering

Swamped by adults much older than you,
your tears craft and slide, glistening like dew.

Chin up, good lad, though your eyes be wet
you’re a gold lad, kindness fills your heart,
shine without trying, making it art
in laugh, in serving, high bar you set

In bustling crowd, you seem small, quite lost;
draw close and we’ll stand firm, not storm-tossed

Sonnet 31 of 100

 

On the morning of 19th May (man…I’m nearly a month behind on this ‘keeping track’ thing), I was privileged to have a really good chat with Pastor David. It was a real blessing, just to be able to talk genuinely and authentically about faith, reality and God. One of the things that struck me was how we don’t have a full understanding of reality, in the sense that we haven’t experienced the pain or the perspectives that many others have and, so, our understanding is limited. Just as limited as theirs as they, too, haven’t experienced the reality of many. All the same, I live with some fantastic chaps with difficult histories, and that gives me a slightly bigger understanding into how limited my reality is and what their reality has been like. When I picked up a fantastic kid for after school club today, I was let into a snippet of how reality is for him. He came to me in tears but, following a walk and a game of top trumps, he was back to his chipper, more usual self. I don’t want to go into details, but I hope the following sonnet captures a fragment of the difficulty of finding yourself in a much bigger place.

 

 

 

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