Hull, 2005
Pearson Park, 6 o’clock in the morning
Pearson Park, 6 o’clock in the morning
A young couple walk silently
Pushing a red pram.
Inside a baby whimpers
Then yawns, drops his head
And, finally, falls asleep.
“Thank God!” she says.
“Humdililah!” he says.
He’s older than her, about 5 years.
They met in a nightclub,
A bit worse for wear.
Her on a hen night.
Him just up from Dover.
They’d danced, laughed, kissed,
Swapped numbers.
And a few texts later,
Were going out.
Her family wasn’t happy.
Her being with one of them Kosovans
(He was Kurdish)
One of them thick shits
(He was a lawyer)
Taking all our jobs
(He washed pots to get by).
He looks at her in the early morning light.
She’s so pretty, he still can’t believe it.
How she’s still with him
How he can feel this happy.
A bird skims across the pond and he jumps.
Suddenly his mind is full of bullets
And screams and children running.
His mother bleeding, his father pleading
And soldiers laughing, laughing, laughing….
“Best get back”, she whispers, squeezing his arm.
“I can’t go back”, tears running down his face.
He pulls her to him and starts to cry.
And she holds him.
And she holds him.
As the sun peeks over the yellow trees
She holds him.
Still in her pyjamas
She holds him.
With her scuffed black trainers and tangled hair,
She holds him.
Nearby a man out walking his dog coughs.
And a jogger flits by with heavy beats pinned to his ears.
“Best get back,” she says again.
“Best get back” he sighs
And slowly, they peel apart
And head towards the gate.
I remember writing this thinking of a Kurdish man I knew who was a massive inspiration to me at the time. His story was one of incredible resilience. And incredible pain. Back then I was struggling with depression and a feeling of stuckness. Often feeling overwhelmed and not knowing how to move on from some things. It helped going out for walks though. And one day whilst walking past the duckpond in Pearson Park, I got the idea to write this piece. The first thing in ages that was about someone else and not about me! So in that sense it was a healing thing. Getting me out of myself and trying to imagine life in someone else’s shoes. The depression still lingered for a while afterwards but at least I’d begun to get some perspective. And feel connected to the world around me again.
I remember writing this thinking of a Kurdish man I knew who was a massive inspiration to me at the time. His story was one of incredible resilience. And incredible pain. Back then I was struggling with depression and a feeling of stuckness. Often feeling overwhelmed and not knowing how to move on from some things. It helped going out for walks though. And one day whilst walking past the duckpond in Pearson Park, I got the idea to write this piece. The first thing in ages that was about someone else and not about me! So in that sense it was a healing thing. Getting me out of myself and trying to imagine life in someone else’s shoes. The depression still lingered for a while afterwards but at least I’d begun to get some perspective. And feel connected to the world around me again.