Balwyn, Melbourne 1966
A winter’s day
In a deep and dark December
I am alone
Gazing from my window to the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow
I am a rock I am an island
Run this message into Mrs C next door, she instructed me.
No… do I have to???? I silently, desperately beg.
I let the back door slam as I leave and creep through the side garden to their backyard gate. As I tread softly, slowly, silently down the side of the house, I try to make myself small, invisible.
Please, please, please be there Mrs C
Please, please, please not Him
I get to their kitchen door and peer through the flywire. I can’t see her.
Come in Sue – the door’s open
In the darkened room behind the kitchen He is there, his face lit by the flicker of the TV.
A presence.
Sitting, Waiting, Watching.
Mrs C is out, but I’ll give her the message. Come and talk to me.
Come, sit on my knee.
I’m too big to sit on anyone’s knee – I’m nine years old
I sit there, frozen, on His knee, in the massive black leather chair.
I look at the TV.
It’s all dark, bleak, a dream.
But it’s not.
I scamper back to my room, safe and warm.
I play Simon and Garfunkel as loud as my portable turntable lets me, drowning out my fears as I yell out the words.
I’ve built walls
A fortress deep and mighty
That none may penetrate
I have no need of friendship, friendship causes pains
It’s laughter and it’s loving I disdain
I am a rock I am an island
I have my books
And my poetry to protect me
I am shielded in my armour
Hiding in my room safe within my womb
I touch no one and no one touches me
I am a rock I am an island
I forget. I sleep.
I dream. In black and white.
I’m on a road that has barbed-wire fencing running down either side.
I am alone and so small and insignificant.
I walk down the arrow-straight road towards the monster machine in the distance.
There’s a single yellow flower on the verge, which I pick
Then I keep walking, walking until the monster swallows me
And I fall, fall, fall …….
It’s the morning, the light streams in.
I’m still here.
I’m still me.
And a rock feels no pain
And an island never cries
Stereo story #724