• caughtinthebrambles

A Chairful Life

I don’t remember sitting

in the very first chair

I ever sat in

but I’ve seen it later on:

red and ornamented, long-legged, barred.


Then came the kitchen bench,

bottles of juice lined up neatly behind me,

breakfast and lunch and newspapers and talk.


Small chairs in kindergarten,

just the right size,

legs dangling,

singing,

and listening to a story

(or not).


The next size chairs:

behind a school desk,

leaning forward,

pen in hand.


And in between:

chairs to build forts

and bridges

and ships.


More chairs behind desks,

more desks behind chairs.


Sitting stiller and stiller.


Later: sitting on benches in parks,

discussing feelings,

and who we are –

who we don’t wanna be.


Then: sitting on the floor in protest

or

sometimes

simply to wait.


A chairless year follows a chairful one.


And then chairs in

lecture theatres,

seminar rooms,

libraries,

train stations,

archives,

theatres,

kitchens,

hospitals,

cinemas,

offices,

pubs,

halls.


Sitting,

listening,

talking,

eating,

frowning,

crying,

reading,

laughing,

doubting,

hiding,

living,

fighting,

thinking,

working,

writing.


Still on the lookout for a chair,

just my size,

legs dangling,

singing,

and listening to a story

(or not).

17 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

eyes narrow – open mouth – heaving shoulders – falling tears – guttural sounds

there’s the water here’s the drop drip drop SPLASH drip drop SPLASH hit the window down the pane in rivers small and searching pushing on then: a pool see-through trembling but stretching perspectives

“No,” she said. “No?” he asked. “No.” “But–” “No ‘but.’” Her voice not breaking. “I won’t do it.” “B–” She shakes her head. She turns her back. Draws the line. Outside, she smiles. Inside, he smiles.