Soliloquy

Being who and what I am...

A parade of people in command of me,

unknown doctor and midwife who supervised my entry,

my parents who looked after and cared for me,

playmates and friends, and a few who bullied me.

*

A few knew me as a cheerful choirboy

hitting top notes with sheer joy,

some knew me as the boy next door,

one day left, kicked out of home.

*

Some saw me as a commercial item

performing a particular task,

a small, cheap and easily replaceable cog

part of their mass-production system,

where anyone would have done,

proved when I moved on.

*

'He never measured up, didn't fit in,'

complained my critics.

*

The guy whose jeep held up his regiment

while invited brass hats, not at all amused, looked on,

while army mates grinned at their displeasure.

*

On ballroom flow,

dancing neat, soft shoe shuffles and twirling feet,

in tune partner and musical beat.

*

All kinds of people surround,

influence, supervise, persuade, teach or guide

all with varying motives.

*

One, assuming her position gave the right,

took me to her office to continue the game started in school grounds,

brow-beating, demanding a different explanation for my actions,

knowing I had no other thing to say.

*

She'd never had to face the soul-destroying task

of teaching where I'd been placed.

Only when I asked, 'What do you want of me?'

did she know she'd lost the day.

*But why, I ask, did she need to humiliate me so?

Well, she must know for I did not.

*

And I think, there's still the source

from where my breath of life was borrowed,

despatched perhaps with intent set in place for me,

that only I, with background, parentage and developing personality

yes, influenced by others endowed with various traits

also from my same source,

might then by choice fulfil the role and destiny of my journey.

*

Dennis Crompton © 2003

(first published www.denniscrompton.wordpress.com 2013)