One Day

He cries hard on his mother’s lap, which
he will not fit snugly anymore
for all the plying of his growing
legs and collapsing in fits of

weltschmerz. “It is too fast
for me,” he says between sobs and
great heavings of a small
chest that must struggle to house

so big a heart, so big a pain.
At twelve, he worries about having
to move out before he
is ready, about change in general and

particularly about the nagging realisation of
the fact that most of his
classmates no longer condone his
playing with Lego. In fact, some

of them, ostensibly former friends,
have taken to ridiculing him
quite openly – him, the one-time
leader of boys, who now

lies prostrate across mother and sofa, unable
to stop the tears, to stop the
years, to stop life looking in at the door-
step, which he will have to want to cross

one day.

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9 Responses to One Day

  1. Oh my, worldweariness at 12 and fears for the future … my heart goes out to him as I see him still able, just, to sit on mum’s lap and howl at the unfairness of it all.

    This is a wonderful poem, Roland. It will be amongst my favourites.

  2. friedrichjo says:

    Nah, not overly sentimental at all. Just a very accurate and emphatic way of summing up parts of the onset of some of the first really difficult times everybody will expierience one way or the other (maybe with varying degrees of intensity).

  3. Kallis says:

    Very kind, thanks J! (Still sorry for the piggies, me.)

  4. Beat says:

    oh, I am all with you! You must stay strong, don’t give too much to the noise of others and – life will be quite all right, much better even! But arguably, life is happening – to a significant part at least – out there…, oh, oh.
    Like it very much Roland!

  5. A real “lump in the throat” moment for me reading this. Very moving.

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