The Inevitable Pain

My butt pained

From the squeeze on the rim

Of a skeleton seat,

They made us sit and wince.

The spiked edge

Spikes, striking into my

Soft butt, distorting the comfort

Locking my jaws to disguise

That sharp pain,

They weren’t moved.

But this cup in my hand

It had lukewarm porridge

For the pastime and pain

To look away

Away from the pain

With my eyes shut, I sip on

And swallow hard

Not to see nor remember the content

But it was porridge I know

I could not stand from the bench

Maybe it was mine

They too wondered why

Maybe I loved it

Arms length away was cold

Sweet, healthy, fruit juice

I could reach for to

Cool the heat of my frustration,

Doubt and need, desires and wants,

To fill the depths of my imagination

And creativity,

But why was I still sitting

On this butt wrecking seat?

When all I could do

Was to wake up and make one step

Stretch one arm and get it,

Get the what I badly needed!

They took advantage of me

And slapped it on to my face,

They knew I could never get off that seat

That my butt was accustomed to the pain

Until my butt belonged to the pain,

The pain belonged to my butt

They belonged together…

The confirmed that the bench was fit

For my skinny butts

They were from hell

They added me cold porridge now

And filled my mug,

Made me believe it was all meant for me

But then I asked for that juice

They pointed at their audience

Ragged weary looking haggards

Who hawk-eyed my seat,

If only they had it,

To rest their burned out backs

And my porridge to lighten and brighten

Soften their cracked lips

Tired from their common stance

Shifting weight from one left

To another one on right.

They pointed at them

Now I want to hit me with

A whip, a sjambok , a flog

That circles my brain

To jerk awake, alive,

What stopped me from standing,

Dropping and picking,

Now my withered butts can.

A coward, scared of losing the mug

For a glass of juice

I bet they laughed and giggled

And laughed some more

Giggling and pointing and giggling

That made my stomach twirl

Like a red tornado with rage 

But when I got up,

Like a soldier reminded of legs not lost,

Eyes fixed on the juice

Their signal ignored, guessing

How I would loose

Then the sighs and relief from the other side

They wanted the seat,

That un-seatable seat

On and on I forged, on and on they wondered,

I stretched the one arm

Reached for the what juice

Brought it to m lips

And so it was possible

I should have long ago

But that inevitable pain

Remain in the past,

If only I could change it

But no, it reminds me of that bench

The one I won’t go to again

The one that was akin to a cage

It is a memory with a scar

This inevitable pain.