Wednesday, 12 December 2007

The Strumbum

This is work from a very old sketchbook 1986-87.
(Accompanied by line drawings of a boy with "strumbum" looks like a guitar)

The boy sat on the branch that wasn't there
Waiting for the next leaf to fall on his forehead
And waken him from his 100 day sleep.
There were many leaves below him.
He couldn't understand how they had all missed him.
The blue sun was turning his hair orange..
Reverse Oxidation.
His mother would be furious.

He envisioned his strumbum.
Something imperfect about it made it his.
Only he would want it.
It loomed shyly above his head
Within reach, but he didn't want to scare it away.
He leaned away to look up at it with love
And humble understanding.
He did not wonder how or if
He would ever play the strumbum.
Its prescence filled his head with green and orange
At the same time.
He felt thoughts , but no words
And felt their breath.

He missed playing the strumbum. He'd played it for 800 days
But that was 8000 days ago when his hair
Was a different shape
As was the world.
And there were two moons back then.
Now, only one.
His love for the strumbum was rekindled through lonelieness.
His strumbum sang with him,
Singing back to him like a friend returns love.
Only a few chords at first,
He played , from his head, their most favourite tunes.
The music sheets familiar but yellowed
Were like an ancient language on the tip of his tongue.
The strumbum hesitated
Like a neglected friend who doesn't know
Whether or not to forgive.

He wished he had a strumbum.
But even if he had one,
He had not the talent and feared
Not the patience to play it.
He felt heavy handed.
Gravity tugged on every limb
That only 1000's of minutes before
Had been numb.
He felt like he had lost everything he had had....
However vague an everything is.
He went on to realise he never had anything.
He was only moving through.
What was then that is not now?
What is full and what is empty?

The strumbum's voice travelled.
The music.
His hair danced to it
And woke him as it brushed his cheek.

1 comment:

E Scott said...

There's more to this than meets the arrive at the hilltop and can see the geography ahead but when you get going, there are twists and turns, mystery, and intrigue.

This journey through the complexities of The Strumbum needs to be revisited a number of times in order to unravel the mystery contained within; each read offering something even more revealing. Are the numbers and the colours clues?
This is a great piece of writing waiting for others to discover.