1 2 /3 4 /5 6 /7 8/ 9 10
I count my steps as soon as my feet leave the bus and carry me home, not thinking of my path, it's ingrained in my body
4 counts of ten and 3 to the traffic light
Balancing on the kerb-edge, anticipating the Green Man - the only man to keep me safe in the dark
7 steps to the other side, a small blessing of lockdown is the lack of noise and stale ***** and rowdy laughter spilling out of the four pubs I'd pass, no swerving or increasing my speed, shoulders up at earlobes and eyes trained on the concrete, whole body screaming
Please don't notice me
The streets now are eerie, the silence brings no comfort
Only heightened awareness of every rustling leaf in a city battered by easterly winds
And I can't catch my breath
6 more 10s and 8, 9
From the corner of my eye a shadowbeast grows and on instinct (self-preservation, conditioning, societal training) my hands are bitten by metal teeth in my pocket
A painful protection, the irony is not lost on me that my only protection outside my door is that which keeps others away in my absence
But the shadow is someone moving to their car so I relax infinitesimally
There are still more steps to go
Coming up for the park, what they call a hot spot but hot for what, all I feel is cold and alone
It's badly lit, filled with teenaged hoots and hollering, kids letting off steam and who can blame them couped up and schooling at home
But their shouts and laughter ricochet sinister and all I can think is What if no one hears me scream?
Finally hurrying past the playpark and the swings creak with too-big boys hanging from too-old frames
I look away and press on, my feet subconsciously pounding with the music blaring from a phone
Disembodied voices decrying the ******* and hoes to silent replies
Another 60 steps and the rats scurry in the bush, I used to shudder but now I recognise their twitchy anticipation, ready at a moment's notice to drop their morsels and run for cover because the intention of the passerby is not my perogative
And the underbrush serves rodents well for hiding in the dark
My own camouflage comes in reflective patches seen by the street lamps, a token honing beacon to oncoming pavement traffic and cars on the roads
I Am Here - See Me
But also don't, let me merge with the stone and concrete that I may pass unnoticed, unwatched, unlabelled
The earphones hang heavy, empty, a prop in the farcical show - blasé ownership of the ground I travel
This is my space and you won't take it from me
This is my body and you won't take it from me
This is my life and you won't take it from me
Not a statement but a plea silent and screamed and etched on my body and painted on my face
But you won't see it in my eyes because they are married to the cracked tarmac and tree-root rebellion pushing against obsidian skies
At night there is no connection with strangers unless their feet fall like yours
pretend power and child-in-mother's-heels certainty
These are inherited steps, a legacy of communal mourning and communiqué
The last street to cross
Cars are few, but ritual demands I take in this T-junction
Safety First
I am king of the road, watch me step
1 2 3 4 strides to the homestretch
So now I count the doors
Only 9 chances of being pulled into a close
8
7
6
5
I'm blinded by a car at full beam
The secure garage door opens and I am trapped
Rabbit-hearted and deer-spooked
Unsure who's behind the wheel, if I can pass ahead
I wait, lungs filled with lead until only brake lights are visible to me at the road end
I'm jumpy tonight, I note
4 doors
3
2
1
And I turn into the carpark
Sticking to the lit pavement
Weaving quickly between vehicles and I'm at the building door
Two flights of stairs and a landing between take 29 steps, I skip a few in anticipation
8 more strides in pitch black - none of our door lights work just now and despite the secure entry system I still speed up
Until the sweetest sound of all
That familiar metal click
786 steps to safety
And as I rest my head on the cool wood interior, I count myself lucky that in here I am promised security
Unlike the thousands of others whose homes are no safer than the streets
A sure sign of the long road yet to be travelled, whose destination may promise a world where we matter