Polity

We find our own way back to life with imagination, what is life but a recycling of the wheels we found loose one day of someone else's bicycle turning over and over your once used brain to make what your brain had already made before. My turn came to turn down the offer of the cowards who had not the courage to be themselves and made our lives hell for not confiding in their lack of tenacity and lack of backbone which in the end would never back them up in their own fight with themselves.

They took flight them that life and lived like wolves except they were on the inside of the community of the forest and not lurking on the outside. It caught us slap bang in the middle of the face that it was those on the centre in the middle of the universe acting like savages massacring savages who ventured outside of their control. It wasn’t curiosity that killed the cat, they did.

He who came crawling made pacts and acts no wolf would dare even consider as though their abuse was the only law of nature. We found out crawling was the highest art of kings and men who wanted everyone to crawl below them. Maybe at the time it seemed like rain or air or snow or wine or tears to make other people do for them that which they could not obtain through persuasion. We couldn’t understand the last fortnights brutality let alone one thousand years but we also had and have a sense that he might not turn out to be so natural after all.

She went about her business not knowing that her business was business but that business in question was never hers. She ransacked cleanliness and spun a meaning out of duty but the duty had slowly killed nine billion before her with some going quickly and some going slowly as it was the dutiful thing to do just to hang on a little bit longer. She wondered to herself late at night in the late afternoon of her life could you un-train the oppressed, but the train coming to get her was coming that following morning and she could not miss it as missing it meant missing being without her family and she did not want to let down her mother who would as far as she was concerned let down her Father who she had spent the last twenty seven years trying to prove herself too even though he had been dead and gone for the last twelve years. The hopes of the he’s and the she’s and the theys leapt up an invisible ladder back through memory. Back through history, back through genealogy, collecting up the dust particles and repetitions and flaws of learnt experience that no one whether it was a he or a she or a they could remember. But this polity of a family living room, of a community, of a couple or of two strangers making love weren’t remembering to recollect what had once happened they were remembering to forget.

We on the other hand couldn’t be bothered with all that. Wearing the right clothes seemed silly and they never quite fit anyway. So we stood back from a distance whilst the games of history took place and we tried to play dot to dot in its grey absurdity. We were traitors to where we were from but they in the end were traitors to humanity garnered by thousands of years of betrayal.

Yet we still wonder where we find the place that is the most us even if it is only inside us, let alone if we could manage to stay there.