To be Human

First I was a submarine commander
I launched a drainpipe torpedo
at my four year old brother,
direct hit, and a broken nose.

Then I fought my sister, she high-kicked,
I deflected. Her head split open
on the corner of my desk.
I can still see her standing over the sink,

dark red blood spreading
through her pale hair.
At secondary school a fight broke out.
I saw one boy head-butt another

who then spat a mouthful of blood
on the tarmac. Now
I understand nothing
but red.

© Copyright Naomi Woddis 2008

Inspired and taken from answers to the the following questions:

What image illustrates the true nature of time ?
Describe the first time you saw another person’s blood ?
What does the word home mean to you ?

Please email me on poetrymosaic@btinternet.com if you fancy taking part. Please make replies no more than 100 words

Kayo Chingonyi
The first time I remember seeing a person’s blood was on the first day of secondary school. A fight broke out at the end of lunch break and there were no teachers around. I don’t remember what it was about just that one boy head butted the other who then spat a mouthful of blood on the floor.

Susan Gray
The true shaper of destiny, time is the double-edged blade of both the poison and the antidote of life, taking on its many forms. It’s a man made creation that will, like all others, end up destroying us in the end. We just bottled it up in the forms of cogs and numbers, giving it just a little tick and hum to let us know that it’s still alive. To have time is to be human. Time exists in all of us, in all of our minds: that illness we can’t live without. Time is embodied in every one of us. This is the true nature of time.

Dominic O’Rourke
My four year old brother on the swing set at home – I thought I could be a submarine commander and launch a torpedo shaped piece of drainpipe at him – direct hit, and a broken nose – I think it was the first time I realised how fragile people could be – it was his tears, his pain, that really hurt me, and not the broken wooden spoon my mother cracked across my arse when she found out.

Debbi Evans
A fight with my sister as kids; she high-kicked, I deflected. Her head split open on the corner of my desk. I can still see her standing over the sink, dark red blood spreading through her pale hair. The site of the gash in A&E as the doctor stitched it up. Felt guilty for weeks.

Katrina Naomi
Blood – phoning for an ambulance automatically, understanding nothing but red.

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