When on the edge, some run, others fly.

Please Do Not Run, Fly.

JJ Bola

to those with wings for feet who keep on running

To those with wings for feet who keep on running (a poem)

Most days, I spend my days trying to figure out What the days mean, and Im stuck. Stuck between caring too much And not caring enough, Between holding on too long and Letting go too easily, Feet stumbling beneath me, Trying to follow this narrow path. I look around, and all I see are faces that laugh, ` Grass greener on the other side, eyes wide, Brimming smiles, full hearts, music on blast, And the nervous excitement from the accidental Touch of two lovers at the start. I look at myself, and Im going nowhere, fast. Maybe this is just a faade, a shallow mask to cover up the fact that we are all hurting inside, That no amount of pride could dry The sea of tears, years of pain, Waiting for clouds to clear, Fear settling like dust, and you know what? Some days I am just tired.

Some days Im barely strong enough To carry the burden of this heavy heart, Let alone the weight of the world on my shoulders. Some days, I need space on my own, No internet, no mobile phone. Some days I just want to run away from it all, But then on some days I hear a voice call, in the back of my mind Each syllable sounding like A little droplet of light Falling on deaf eyes That wander through the darkness, And it says to me Why would you want to run, when you have Wings for feet? Fly So this is to all those with wings for feet, Who keep on running: Please do not run, fly. Fly like the poets pen off the page, Fly like it was your 12th birthday, You just made the biggest wish and blew out a Candle with a flame the size of the sun, And the darkness of the universe is now your Living room.

Fly like a midnight moonlight city cyclist With headphones on, Going downhill with no hands. Fly, Like a runner in the park racing against the Sunset. No regrets, like every mistake you ever made, Has just been washed away. Fly like your new crush has just noticed you looking fly, And has walked up to you holding Roses and chocolates to ask you out on a date, And theyre paying. Fly like you never stopped believing in love, Like you werent the only one. There was a time when everything You imagined was real, Your mind is the most powerful instrument You will ever own, Only second to your heart, which you feel, And they are made of one and the same, So fly. Fly like you are not worried about the days, Months and years of getting older, Because each day you live, Is the youngest you will ever be.
7

We live eternally, in each dream, in each sleep, We keep a piece of ourselves, to give to each other. So this is to those with wings for feet who keep on running

Please do not run, fly.

10

Julius started running, one foot following swiftly after the other, picking up speed, weaving through the traffic of people on the busy street. He slid past a strolling couple, stutter-stepped by a lamppost and pirouetted around a mother and her child in a pram. His slight frame, long limbs and light feet meant that when he ran, he looked more like a dancer than a sprinter. The expression on his face while running, one of constant surprise, was probably the most entertaining to see. The bus he was chasing was waiting at a red light, but he had to get a head start as the bust stop was in the near distance, and he could not afford to miss this bus. Missing this bus could be the difference between another failure, and having to start again, or finally prospering in something he pursued. Julius was an ideas man, a mind full of creativity and imagination. He would carry around with him a little notepad, just so he could write down the thoughts that popped into his head. We are all genius you know he would say, genius is like a muscle, and each thought is like
11

a strand of that muscle. Now, the more you exercise and build it up, the stronger your genius becomes and the better you can use it. Julius could entertain like this for hours, mainly only to himself; he was never bored and loved the pleasure of his own company. However, many would enjoy listening to him pontificate over the complexity, beauty and wonder of life and the finer details. The light turned green and the bus slowly began to accelerate. Julius, his pace now slowing down, was losing his breath, as well as the race. For a moment, he was running at the same speed as the bus, which to him felt like he was running at Olympic speed. He made eye contact with the bus driver, and stuck out his hand signaling, communicating a lament, a prayer even: Listen, I know that there is no one at the bus stop ahead, but I really need you to wait for me. The heavens will bless you. The bus driver picked up speed again, leaving Julius behind, who eventually had given up all hope and slowed to halt; hands on his knees, breathing heavily.
12

After a moment, Julius got ready to start walking but as he looked up, much to his surprise, the bus was waiting there at the bus stop. He found a sudden burst of energy, darted over to the stop and leaped on to the bus as if he was in the desert and the bus was a mirage of an oasis water fountain that was just about to disappear. He thanked the bus driver profusely, and slumped down on the nearest seat that he could find.

13

Julius was sitting on the bus seat nearest to the driver, looking up, head leaning back on to the vibrating window, face full of exhaustion and relief. He put in his earphones and started listening to some music in order to settle into his journey when all of a sudden, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked across to the left to see a familiar face, which he once knew so well. So you sat as far away from me as possible to try and avoid me Mihra! he shouted her name in a surprised high pitched tone, as it magically popped back into his head, after he struggled to recall. Mihra he said again, this time in a deeper, more collected manner, realising how his initial reaction may have been slightly over the top, not to mention emasculating. Would I do such a thing? If I had seen you, I wouldnt have even got on the bus in the first

14

place! He joked with a childlike grin on his face. Ha ha, very funny, she replied sarcastically. They knew each other from school, and such was their friendship; he was the intelligent clown, the friendly figure who others found comfort in despite his overbearing presence and she was the feisty, fiery, opinionated girl, who wasnt that loud I swear I wasnt, she said, as if trying to convince him about something of which he was none the wiser. Mihra was beautiful; her face was perfectly symmetrical as if hand sculpted by angels, with hands made holy by prayer, but greater was her beauty made by her character. Her heart knew not a limit to compassion. Their friendship had developed throughout the school years, as many a time; they would often spend days in the park under crimson coloured sunsets, and the symphonies of local traffic. The fork in the road in their lives had taken them on different journeys, to discover new experiences until eventually; they fell out of touch with each other, but were always close to each others hearts.
15

Anyway, how have you been? What are you doing with yourself now? she asked intently. If there are two questions that no one ever truly answers, it is these. They are thrown at you, like a giant ball of smoke, which you are expected to breathe in, and then exhale giving back nothing but fresh air. That is why people usually answer with the basic, fundamental, safe responses: Ive been well, nothing much and oh, you know, just the usual. The question is more about them, than it is about you. They want to be sure that they havent failed when they could have been there for you, as a once close friend. Julius hesitated before replying to the wellintentioned questions, Im good you know, everything is good, I cant complain. She smiled a gentle smile in response, and nodded, as if urging him to carry on speaking. He complied. You know, Ive just been working and stuff. Have you finished your degree? Oh, and are you still working for that? Yeah, Ive finished. You know me, more degrees than a protractor. Education is all about getting in there at therightangle he
16

paused, smiled wryly in self acknowledgement, and then continued, And, no, Ive left them. The services company, which must have been the last time I saw you. Wow, time flies. Ive left them. Yeah, things didnt really work out there. Not to worry, these things happen. Such is life, so they say. Im just kind of in between things now. Im actually on my way to something thoughbut anyway, what about you? How have you been? Ive been keeping well, as well as can be. Just the usual; working and studying. Im doing a Masters degree now. And Ive had a child, a little girl. Wow. Youre a mother, congratulations, he replied, genuinely. Thank you! How old is she? Shes four. Shes got such a little mouth on her though; I dont know where she could have got that from I know right. You know what kids are like, just picking up habits from the air these days,

17

nothing to do with their parents, he replied sarcastically. Oh stop it. Anyway, she literally is my life. I cant even put into words how I feel. Yeah kids are amazing Have you? NO. Julius replied, swiftly before the question had even left Mihras lips. No, I am not ready to be a father, I would like to be, someday, but Im not quite there yet, not now. I dont think youre ever quite there, it happens and then you adapt and prepare for it. Much like anything else in life. Thats true. Things have changed so much since school days, I mean look at us now. Even the conversations were having, were we ever prepared for this? Its called being a grown up Julius, she replied jokingly. Oh, you know what I mean. I still have my school bag that you signed on leavers day; do you remember what you wrote? You wrote, This is for when Im a rich and famous footballer, you can sell it on Ebay. You actually wrote that
18

No way, did I write that? That is hilarious. You have to admit, that was kind of funny. It came from a place of love, I was only thinking of you. I wanted you to make money. Shame you didnt do the same for me. Oh, whatever. I remember in school times, things were so different Julius began reminiscing, our priorities, our outlook, our passions, even our dreams We went to such a crap school though. That wasnt a school, it was an experiment. Youre so silly! Its true though, half of things that happened could have been in an episode of Eastenders or on the front page of a tabloid newspaper. I used to do some outreach work with local schools at my old job and, to my surprise, some of the kids used to complain about their school. Their school was brilliant. They didnt realise how good they have it. They dont know any betteror worse. We knew worse. she replied. Education is supposed to be holistic; its supposed to turn us into people, into a human
19

being. Its supposed to take our lives from the grey and put it in colour. The meaning of education is to bring out that which is within, not to hold it back. Julius added, as if giving a public address. Well, its not like things have changed that much though. Schools are more high tech now but Oh, my days. Do you remember those RM computers though?! Computers? You mean the giant LEGO BRICKS. And we used to have to share, two to a computer. One on the keyboard, on one the mouse More like 3 to a computer, the other would wait press the button on the floppy disk drive. 3 floppy! they said simultaneously and then burst out with laughter. But yeah, unless the school philosophy and ethos changes, it wont matter how high tech they are, especially now, things will always be the same. Mihra said in a resigned tone. Sometimes, kids just get taught how to survive and not how to thrive.
20

Exactly, and thats not what it should be about.

We grew up too fast Mihra said, her voice quivered carrying undertones of regret. Spent too much time trying to be something were not, she continued. Pretending to be grown up, doing the things that grown-ups do, getting drunk, having sex. No one ever showed us any different We live in a world that values that kind of lifestyle though. Children copy what they see, and so, the more they see of it, the more they what to copy it. We werent even given a chance. Looking back, half of the things that we used to do in school, we never knew any better. So many girls did stuff, with boys, just for the sake of doing it. Just because they thought thats what they were supposed to do, to be liked, to be popular, where is that popularity now?

21

Some girls used to give head, to different boys, one by one, or have sex at parties. A girl I knew, lost her virginity at a party with some guy, who she didnt even know, or didnt even really like and then she lost it three more times that same night, just because that guy had friends. No woman wants that for herself, no woman would want that for their daughter. And these boys, who dont get taught that being a man isnt defined by sex, that womens bodies arent conquests for your personal adventure Julius could hear the pain that hid behind Mihras gentle smile and lay dormant in her voice. He nodded in agreement, and watched as her words overflowed from her heart, then poured out of her mouth. She continued, Ive lost count of how many University papers Ive written on feminism, patriarchy, the sexualisation of young boys and girls, but what good does it do if we cant even reach out to them? I was making my way home on a Friday evening, and I saw a young girl, she couldnt have been older than 15, dressed in hot pants and a vest. She was surrounded by about 4 or 5 boys, all
22

walking together. At that moment, my heart sank because I knew exactly what that meant; I knew where they were going, and what they were going to do. I knew that that night would swallow her soul and the pain will forever burn in her memory. I knew all of this, and I couldnt do a thing. Maybe its not on us to save others, maybe its on us to save ourselves, Julius replied. What about if you dont know any better? Then what? We didnt know any better. Who was there for us? she stated, the frustration resonated in her voice. Yeah but we still turned out alright. Not all of us. In fact, a lot of us didnt, we were the lucky ones What do you mean? he asked curiously. I mean, we did alright but a lot didnt. There were girls that got involved in all kinds of craziness, from drugs, to crime, doing time in prison, sex, prostitution and all sorts I dont know Jules, I just get so frustrated by it all.

23

The bus slowed to a halt and pulled in at a stop. The side window vibrated with the force of a pneumatic drill which would be unbearable was it not for the brilliant sun that came shining through.. A few passengers got on; an elderly woman, a mother and her son, and a middle aged man. The bus was relatively empty; most of the passengers were minding their own business apart from the little boy who seemed to show a passionate curiosity towards everything. He would scale the bright yellow poles, as high up as his little fingers could reach and as low down. Then he would fixate on the red square, pressing it, inadvertently, much to the annoyance of the agitated bus driver and the apologetic mother who then got her child to sit down next to her on the inside seat, so he would not be able to move so freely. Julius sat there watching, pondering. What becomes of us? he asked Mihra rhetorically. He continued When we were children, we believed in everything. Our dreams and hopes were so real, no matter how simple or how dramatic they
24

were. We could have saved the world, just because we believed it was possible. But, as we got older, so many of us lose that spirit, and our dreams get smaller and smaller until were just content with just what we can get. Maybe its because we listen to other people, maybe its because we get told no so many times, that we start telling it to ourselves, sometimes before we even try. Mihra sat listening curiously to Julius as he spoke and seemed to be present in the here and now, and simultaneously, in a far and distant place. I had a dream a while ago that I cant ever forget, it was quite strange. I was driving through a really quiet neighbourhood, it was eerily quiet. Green, green grass, white picket fences, and lampposts lined up symmetrically down the street. The shine of the moon illuminated the middle of the road, kind of like something you see in the movies. I didnt recognise the area, it wasnt somewhere I had not been or seen before. I was driving, but I didnt feel like I was in control of the car, and I couldnt tell how fast I was going. The only
25

indicator of speed I had was how fast I passed each lamppost relative to the distance between them. I could feel the car accelerate faster, and faster, my heart began to race, for as it was going faster, the less control I had, and the less control I had, the more I wanted to slow down but couldnt. As we passed each lamppost, I could hear a whoosh sound, and it got louder and louder the faster we went. I let go of the wheel, at the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow of a boy running out towards the road. I tried to hold on to the steering wheel again when, all of a sudden, I heard a loud thud as something hit the bonnet, and the car came to screeching halt in the middle of the road. I saw a flyaway football, bright white with black hexagonal squares, float in slow motion through the air until it went out of sight. In that very instance, I quickly jumped out of the car to see what it was, and my fears were made true. I saw a young boy, hanging, still in mid-air, weightless, then swaying side to side, like a piece of paper, carried by the air, until he landed gently on the ground.

26

I went to the boy as fast as I could, but at first I couldnt see his face, he had a nose, lips, eyes, but I couldnt see his face. I couldnt see his face. But then, the more I looked, the more I concentrated, his face became clearer, and clearer, and I could see that the boy was me. It was me. I held myself, when I was a boy, in my arms. He was lifeless, I was lifeless. He was absolutely still. The moonlight adorned his face, with a beauty and tranquility unknown. The boy had a smile. I wanted to tell him not to run, that it wasnt safe, that he shouldnt have been running but all I could hear were the sounds of laughter, joy, and children playing in the playground. All that was now gone, but I wasnt sad, I wasnt sad. I wasnt sad because thats all he ever knew, crayons, colouring pencils and Lego bricks, thats all he knew. That joy, that innocence, thats all hell ever know. Thats all we ever want to know, love. What we love, but it slips so easily, through our fingertips.

27

Mihra sat there in a stunned silence, as if someone had read back to her, all the letters that she had written as a child and then forgotten about. The feelings were all too familiar, the emotions were all too familiar; the pain she knew too well. They were not supposed to meet like this, the conversation was supposed to be calm waters under a bridge; instead, it was a deluge that came gushing forth, torrential like tropical rain. In the silence which remained, they expressed themselves as loudly and as clearly as they did when in conversation. Were it not for his overbearing masculinity, the stern face and stillness in his eyes, she would have stood up and offered him an embrace, wrapped her love around him, and gifted him in new life. This was too much for her to offer, so instead she reached over and gently placed her hand on his shoulder. Their eyes met, and in that instance, all her words were said. In her silence, through her eyes, she spoke saying in another time, we would have been lovers, and I would have eased your pain. Im sorry I didnt take the time, Im sorry I did not have the time to see you through your days. My arms were barely
28

strong enough to carry the burden of my own weight, but you didnt need strong arms, you simply needed arms that were long enough to reach you, hands with the tenderness to hold on to you, and a finger to point you to the stars and guide the way. At that moment, Julius placed his hand on top of hers both rested on his shoulders as if in acknowledgement, of a great truth, a deep love, that was spoken in silence.

29

I have to get off soon, Mihra stated reluctantly, I have to go to work. Julius nodded understandingly, and raised his shoulders. Its been a pleasure Mihra, Im really glad I bumped into you. Promise not to leave it so long next time. They underwent the process of exchanging pleasantries that old friends usually engage in when parting ways after having met after such a long time; the exchanging of appropriate contact details, and then extended goodbyes. Where did you say you were off to? That work thing she asked as the doors opened to let passengers off the bus. Oh, that, dont worry Ill let you know how it went, he replied. Okay, good luck! she shouted as she rushed off the bus, her voice came in from a distance. Julius was left to ride the bus on his own, which was a regular occurrence for him; he would ride
30

the bus, tube, train, whichever form of public transport, and observe people. He would sit there, in awe and fascination as he would create stories of peoples lives based on what he saw. It was as if they were no longer strangers, and he had gotten to know them personally. He would be able to see things in them, which he saw in himself; their struggles, their pains, their joys, and their love. He would look around and see the same look on the faces of many, the look of belonging, of desire, of passion, of a need to be alive. The same yearning look which he would see in himself. Julius stop was fast approaching, he put on his earphones and began to listen to music in order to calm him down, but it did not seem to be helping so he snatched the earphones out and placed them into his bag. He leaned forward to get a good look of his location, and then pressed the bell upon realising that he had arrived. He walked off the bus; his heart was beating faster and faster as he walked closer and closer to the stand alone grey-red brick building, with blue rails and a medium size car park. He passed the automatic gates to the front door where he was
31

buzzed in and met at reception by a young, attractive lady with a kind smile, and flowing hair. Can I have your name please? she said softly, glowing eyes above her smile. Julius. Julius Monroe. I have an appointment with the he answered Thank you sir, please take a seat, she pointed him in the direction of the main waiting area. Julius walked over, each step heavier than the last, the echo of each step sounded louder and louder. Though light-headedness and fatigue had settled deeply into his core, he tried not to slump into the chair, so he placed himself, slowly but surely, into the comfortable seats that surrounded the coffee table filled with an array of magazines that were only of interest if gardening or weddings were a pastime activity. There was a door adjacent to where Julius was sitting, which lead to the main office. He stared at the door impatiently, and, as if by command, it slowly creaked open. A rather tall man with dark brown hair and a tinge of grey silver, glasses, a neatly ironed light blue shirt, navy blue

32

chinos, and brown leather shoes, appeared from behind the door. Mr. Monroe, I presume? the man asked, with his deep calming, bass filled voice. Please, call me Julius, he replied. Excellent. Well, Im Dr. French, but you can call me Peter Julius was hearing what the man was saying but wasnt really listening. He doesnt look like a doctor, Julius thought to himself, he looks more like a musician, he probably has a guitar hidden away somewhere that he plays after work. Julius, then realising he had drifted away with his thoughts, began to focus again on what was being said. Were just getting started, so you havent missed much. The rest of the group is in here, so if youd just like to follow me The doctor opened another door, walked in and then held the door open for Julius to walk in after him, as if presenting him to the entire group. Julius walked in to a room full of curious faces, with eyes so deep that they made of them oceans.

33

Hi, my name is Julius, he addressed the group; quivering voice and nervous smile. It was suggested by Dr. French that I attend this support group he paused. The support group was for people with mental health issues, a safe environment for people to talk without the burden or pressure of judgment from others. This is my first time here, after a long time of trying to run away from it. I guess I was in denial for the most part, and the more I denied it, the bigger this grey cloud grew above my head until even my own shadow ran away from me. I dont know if its depression, manic depression, bipolar or what, all I know is some days I want to live; I see the beauty of the world as an oil painting and I hear sounds as symphonies. On other days, other days I just long for silence, I long not to see, not to feel, I long for I rarely sleep anymore, and I spend most nights staring at the moon, the everlasting moon, watching her glow illuminate. I have so many questions, so many that go unanswered, and the ones that get answered,
34

just lead to more questions, and more questions, until my thoughts rush in like a swarm of bees, too loud inside my head. I dont know what I believe in anymore. Im praying to Jesus, Buddha, Krishna, whoever. Im praying to myself, just to try and make sense of this world. Nothing makes sense to me, apart from the little things, but nobody seems to notice the little things, nobody seems to care about the little things Julius sighed a huge sigh of relief, as if a fallen cloud had been lifted from his brain. Noticing Julius sudden drift into silence, the doctor picked up and carried on where Julius had left off and began speaking to the entire group. Julius sat there, staring into space, letting the words pass in one ear and out of the other, all the same, like a factory line of sounds. He sat in the meeting, heavy heart sinking as he listened to the stories of every person in the room. Each pouring out their soul, lamenting melancholic misery to a world that just doesnt have the time to listen. Each story was a darker shade of grey, until there was colour no more. Julius filled with emotion; a sadness and rage, quickly gathered his things, and walked out the
35

door trying to reach a pace faster than his legs could carry him. He just wanted to get away, he wanted to run. The rain was pouring down, like little droplets of regret for everything he had ever done. Each step in a puddle felt like a step into his conscience, he wished the water could wash away his thoughts. Julius began to head home after what had been a long and eventful day. His deep breaths slowed down and became shallower, as his pace reduced. He decide to take the train, he walked to the nearest station, which was not as far as he thought it would be but maybe thats only because he ran for a part of the journey making the distance feel significantly shorter. He walked into the train station soaked, water dripping from his hair, and leaving a trail from his shoes. There were people stood at the door of the station, trying to find cover, waiting for the rain to pass, whilst others walked out brazenly into the downpour. The ticket barriers were open and no members of the transport staff were around, so Julius snuck past inconspicuously. There was a tunnel that leads to the train platform, and as Julius began to walk through,
36

passing strangers on the way, a multitude of steps echoing off the walls, he noticed a bright yellow sign up above him that read, Please do not run. Strange, he thought to himself, that we are always told what not to do. Always told what to be, put in little boxes, and placed in a shelf so that well be easy to find when someone needs to use us. Julius thoughts reverberated in his mind, and became loud, pounding like a bass drum in his temple. His eye lit up, with a fire, and facial expressions grew stern, attracting looks from people who passed by. Please do not run. I dont want to run, but maybe I need to. Ive been running my whole life, for 32 years, all Ive ever done is run, and you know what? I am tired, tired of running. So tired of it all, maybe I shouldnt run. Maybe I should just stop running. There was a small crowd of people waiting for the next train at the platform. The rain was being blown in from above, so some chose to stand right at the back to avoid, whilst a few remained defiant and stood at the edge and got wet. The board indicated that there was 5
37

minutes until the train arrived, and the automated, monotonous voice of the lady over the tannoy reiterated this. Julius walked along the platform, thoughts still racing, and made his way bobbing and weaving past the small crowd. He walked, slow stuttered steps, past the yellow line to the edge of the platform. Time seemed to slow down dramatically, to the point where it was not felt, there was no past, there was no future; there was only the here and now. All was captured in the moment, and into that moment, Julius had fallen, given everything of himself until there was no more left. He now stood on the edge of the platform, looking straight ahead, as if facing an audience who sat in anticipation of a magnificent act. The noise of his thoughts that previously echoed settled into a quiet, into a calm that he had not heard before, as if a giant blanket had fallen from above and sent his mind to sleep. His heart was now gently beating against his chest like the tender caress of a lover in their last parting moments. His feet shuffled towards the edge; each step moved him a few centimetres
38

closer, and closer, and closer. Rain drops ran down his face like tears, each one a lamentation, each one a prayer, for all the times he had placed a burden on his shoulders that he could not carry but did so anyway, for all the times he had rolled that giant boulder up the hill, nearing the top and watched it fall back down, then started again, for all the times he had given all fourteen pieces of himself, to a lover, only to find that she could not put him back together, but still loved, and for all the times that came neither sorrow nor joy. There was no telling how long until the train arrives, the seconds seemed eternal, yet the minutes passed instantly. Julius staring into the space in front of him, absent of all shooting stars, and floating moons, awaited his fate. He seemed certain that at this moment, there was nothing he could do. There was no more fight, no more struggle, no more tiredness, just calm. Then in an instance, at the corner of his eye, there seemed to emerge an object, with a brightness glowing from within. Julius, startled by this, looked over and saw the object appear on the train tracks. It was an all-white bright
39

flyaway football with black hexagonal squares. Julius felt an electric surge pass through him starting from the soles of his feet dancing along his spine to the tip of the hair on his head. He was taken back, to his dream, back to the moment he saw the ball pass through the air. He had been here before, he has been here many times. Julius became frantic, he wanted to go down there to the tracks and get the ball. He had to, there was no other choice. His heart, once dormant, instantly came alive and began beating with a tremor like a stampede of wild horses on tender soil. He looked up to the board to see how long was left until the next train arrived: 1 min. The sense of time came rushing back in like a tidal wave to the shore. He looked to the left, then to the right, and then suddenly, with cat-like reflexes, he jumped down to the train tracks. He landed, with his feet firmly planted on the ground, making sure not to slip on the little stones that made up the track. There were gasps and chatter from all over the platform, Julius could hear them echoing all around.

40

What is he doing?!, Get out of there! The commotion continued in the background. Julius reached and picked up the ball, clutching it with so much might that it almost burst. He knew there wasnt a lot of time left, and had to get back up on the platform straight away. He heard the electricity start to run through the track indicating that the train, though out of sight, was on its way. And so, with the same cat like reflexes he showed earlier, he jumped up onto the edge and rolled on to the platform, then stood upright as if nothing happened. Julius made his way out of the train station, with the quiet confidence of someone who had just stared an adversary in the face and beat it down. There were new faces that now passed him, faces that did know what had just happened, faces that looked at him with the same indifference as before. He held the black and white flyaway ball in the palm of his hand, cupped under his chest. Approaching him was a woman with her child, the little boy held on to his mothers hands, little feet scurrying beside her seemingly giant strides. The boy looked up and saw Julius, an
41

excitement filled his eyes as he shouted ball and pointed his tiny finger to the ball that Julius was holding. Ball! the boys light voice persisted, much to the embarrassment of the mother, who was more concerned about where she needed to be. The boy stopped right next to Julius, finger still pointing, hand still reaching though he was too small to grab it. Im so sorry, the mother said apologetically, hes just at that stage where he is excited by everything. No, dont be sorry. Thats the best stage to be at. Julius knelt down to the little boy and handed him the world, with all its brightness, a round flyaway ball, lighting up his eyes.

42

43

Also by JJ Bola

- spoken word verses and poetry And more www.youtube.com/JJBolaWriterPoet www.jjbolawrites.blogspot.com Email: jjbolawriterpoet@gmail.com Twitter: @JJ_Bola

JJ Bola Kinshasa born, London raised. A writer and poet, usually found wandering somewhere between dreams and sleep
44