HE QUICKENED HIS STEP

Have you ever had an idea that you initially think is complete by itself but on closer examination you realise something is missing? I had this image of a man being pursued throughout his life by his errors. They had manifested as these large ugly creatures that followed him everywhere. I suppose my idea comes from the Furies of Ancient Greece.

However, it did not feel a complete idea in itself. Over a couple of weeks the image clarified itself in to this poem.

He made it clear to the station

then he saw his errors

lope down the street

each vying for his attention.

He quickened his step.

As the train pulled out

there they were again,

skidding down the platform.

This night in this hotel room

on the outskirts of his new life

he looks out over the city

coloured lights against the black

and wishes against all logic for a path back.

His errors slumber,

breathe heavily,

the minutes tick by.

I wanted the poem to be a snapshot rather than the whole story. I wanted to allow the reader to infer, to make up their own mind,  to show rather than tell.

Here is Maria Gadu. 

Until next time.