What have I done?

The rain is pouring down
I’m wet and cold, my body is shivering.
Thoughts are rushing through my mind,
Heavy hart beats banging in my chest
like after a long exhausting run.
What have I done?

I settle myself on a bench
taking deep breaths, trying to calm down.
It is late!
The evening sky is getting darker above me.

Then words flush up
like gasoline on fire inside my mind:
“I’m not the one who is going to get hurt!”

My father will be proud.
I love my father!
Me, finally being a man!
I’ll tell him as I give him his brandy and comics.
Then what?

I know.
The door to the study will be closed.
Silence, while my father consumes brandy
along with the comics.
Then – nothing, or maybe
he will call for me.
Telling me he is proud of what I have done.
“The boys are boys remember.”
“They are less worthy than us,
less intelligent you know.”
“They need to know their place.”
“Haven’t I always told you?”
But still……

The rain is pouring down.
Here I am, sitting on the bench
“White people only”
My inner riot fills me with anger and sadness,
makes me unable to move.
Heavy rain falls down on me as the evening darkness thickens.
No kite can reach the sky.
All by myself,
I wonder, “Master Harold”
-are you the one to get hurt?

In response to “Master Harold”… and the boys by Athol Fugard