Poem -

The Boy who would be a Statute

The Boy who would be a Statue 

When I was a boy, smaller than I am now
I had wild eyes and ambitions of becoming a Statue
I may have been seven, or eight, no more than nine
I spent a lot of time resting with my own solitude
I was a solitary boy, the one who preferred to walk his own path
I laid with my own thoughts and imagination, a fantasy that was my own
I lived on a farm with mum, dad, three sisters, one brother, forty cows, two dogs, three cats, twelve chickens and six guinea pigs.

I do recall that on Saturday’s, Sunday’s and School Holidays was my time, it was my time to shine 
I practised my new found art in my bedroom. I closed my door to spying eyes and the whole world 
I slowly moved from my feet to my head. Mastering positions only a Statue could be, at least one new pose a day.

After my morning chores and the family was resting, I was the absentee, not to be found in twenty acres of farm land.
We lived on a main road to the town. The traffic culminated of cattle trucks, locals and those passing through.
I would position myself beside the old gum tree, ready for an audience.
I could glance in both directions for pending traffic.
A green Holden, my first for the day.
I transformed into a gladiator, muscles protruding, and in a battle stance.
I chose not to make eye contact with the passengers.
I always wondered if they truly believe I was a Statue.
My adolescent mind was convinced they did.
Another vehicle coming from the left.
I stand on one leg with my arms raised to the side, staying as still as a Statue.

Another vehicle from the right this time.
I stand as a soldier in battle. 
I lent down for a branch at my feet. I quickly raise it into the form of a rifle.
I kept up this stance for four vehicles, one truck and three cars. It felt like minutes, not seconds.
I would repeat the form of the ‘Boy who would be a Statue’ until I was eleven.
We left the farm and moved to suburbia. 
Concrete and median strips did not replace the rolling hills and paddocks of farm life.
I am fifty now, and upon reflection, the innocence of youth guided me to be anything I wanted to be. 
I am aware now that the only constraint we have in life is ourselves.
I live through my own fantasies every day, to be again ‘The Boy who would be a Statue.’

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