Master Bruce

Why do we fall, Master Bruce
I fell
Into a hole
A dark hole
A bottomless pit
I fell into it
Many times
Too many times
But I fell into it on one occasion
With a little push
From someone who didn’t mean to give me
A little push
Nevertheless
Push push push
In the hole I went
The same as the time before
And the time before that
And all the times that came after
Fall fall fall
Push push push
I climbed back out
Eventually
Dusted down my flanks
And straightened myself up
And got on
Again
And again
And again
Why do we fall, Master Bruce
Here I am
15 years later
Looking into a similar hole
With that same face from 15 years prior
By my side
Or behind me
I’m not sure
Yet
A hole I once knew
Perhaps
Or maybe not
Maybe it’s only a shadow
Or a reflection
Maybe this time I won’t get that little push
The one I didn’t deserve
Maybe I’ll get rescued
Maybe the push will turn into a pull
Further away from that hole
Than ever before
Perhaps I’ll get caught
Mid fall
Post push
I’m working my mechanisms
Taking those breaths
Taking a step back to examine where I am
Who I am
And what’s going on
To see if I can build
A net
Over the hole
So that when I start to wobble
Fumble
Stumble
And slip
I’ll still have enough by the way of tools
To stop me falling in
Little push or not
I’m not meant to fall
Not this time
I’ve done my fair share of falling in black holes
I’ve done my fair share of getting back up
And it’s tiresome
And boring
And unnecessary
So thank you Alfred Pennywise
For your well-meant advice
But the real trick
Is not learning how to get back up again
The real trick
Is not falling down that bastard hole
In the first place

One thought on “Master Bruce

  1. Holes are boring.
    And unnecessary.
    Sometimes i am pushed.
    Sometimes i fall.
    Most of the time i am my own saboteur.

    Solid ground seems like a place for other people.
    Not me.
    Never me.
    So yes, holes are boring.
    And unnecessary.
    And dark.
    And cold.
    And lonely.
    But they always feel safer somehow.

    Still.. baby Jesus loves a trier.
    Or at least his Dad does.
    So i’ve heard.
    I will dig a tunnel i think.
    There’s a very good chance i will get lost.
    I always do.
    But maybe
    With perseverance
    And paws like shovels
    I’ll poke my moley little nose through the mud & the dirt & the worms & the beetles.
    And there might be someone there to coax me out with a smile.
    But more likely a piece of bacon.
    I’ll blink my pin prick eyes
    There.
    I see now.
    It’s my saviour.
    The words will tumble from my head to my mouth..”at last.. i’ve found you again..”
    THWACK

    It was not my saviour at all.
    It’s some bloody rotund child with a face full of candy floss.
    And a feckin great big foam hammer.
    Down down down the hole i go.
    Do i keep trying to find you again?
    I find you in my head all of the time.
    You are always there.
    Hiding.
    But i feel you.
    A lifetime ago now.
    But still you linger on.
    The only one to reach me.
    Even though i couldn’t hold on.
    I have never really let you go.
    This hole doesn’t feel so lonely after all.

    Like

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