will there be room for me?

My heart sunk as I watched him tiptoe through the lunchroom. He tiptoed across the lunchroom to the field outside. He tiptoed across the field, across the picnic tables to the corner of the field under the mustard tree. Where all the rejects sat. In all his life at this school, Benjamin had never found a seat in the lunchroom. Cruel faces scowled at him, lips mocked and laughed, hands pushed, pushed him away. There was no room for him in the lunchroom. Never. He took out his guitar and sang the blues. In his father's house where he belongs, he's sure to have a room. Red and yellow black and white, they are precious in his sight. But in my father's room, will there be one person too many. Will there be room for me?

She ran up and down the corridor finding the door to her room, to find she didn't have one. My heart sunk. Marcia had to go back to where she came from. Her friends thought it be a good joke to hide her camp application form and that left her without a room. And not one of them offered her theirs, so she had to go back where she came from. The camp leader sent her back on a bus and closed the gates behind her. There was no room for her at this camp. So she took out her guitar and sang the blues. In her father's home where she belongs, she's sure to have a room. But in my Father's house will there be one person too many? Will there be room for me?

This is my land said the tall china man. When was it taken, stripped and then broken? This is my land said the tall shanghai man. Since when I was not allowed into the land tilled by my own father's hand? I looked into his eyes and he wearily pointed to me, the signs in the old town that said no chinese allowed. I looked around, we were in China weren't we? No chinese allowed. I was horrified as my eyes were opened to the number of mouths that spat at his face, and my ears hear only shirks and swear words in a million languages but chinese. Chasing the tall china man, away from his own street, his own land.

Thinking back to the times when my father was king and he was here for me. I was welcomed a million, more than one room there was for me. I was invited to every party. Doors were opened a million times over just for me. Since when was I the one to be cast aside? Since when?

I looked at his face as he braces himself for what he is about to see. There was nothing he could do as he watched and waited for the inevitable consequence to take place. The smooth china, untouched, and invaluable wobbled and fell out the window ledge onto the asphalt road five floors down. I cringed as I watched his fist clench tight. I squeezed my eye shut, tight as the china shattered into a million worthless fragments. His vase, once invaluable, now broken. A million pieces.

How did you feel, how did you feel when a million hands uncrowned you king?

The mild weather was comforting and refreshing. Nothing too bright or hot, neither was it dark nor cold. The sea and the sky were is hues and shades of blue and grey, and the blue and grey blanketed the atmosphere. I dreamt of the airport and flying off to places I have never been. I still dream the same dream. Sitting with my iced coffee hearing my friends talk the talk that I know they will walk makes me smile. Dreams to be dreamt, places to go, things to see. Uncertainty surrounded most of our realities. I analysed each of their faces, beautiful and different. Red, yellow black and white they are precious in his sight. So the song goes. So the song goes. One day we would all live together in our father's houses, will there be one colour too many? Will there be room for me?

The china vase sits on the window ledge, shinier than it had ever been before. The skillful hands of the wondrous potter, had unfell the fallen, and unbroke the broken. He patiently put the pieces back together again, and by fire smoothened, strengthened. The beautiful china vase sits on the window ledge unbroken and flawless. Whole.

A potter so skilled, a heart so pure to unbreak a million hearts again.

A million hands uncrowned you king. A million hands a-broken. A million hearts rejected you as king. A million hearts a-broken. Watch the inevitable consequence of a million hearts shattered.

His fist clenched. Tight. My eyes shut. Tight.

A potter so skilled, a heart so pure to unbreak a million hearts again.

The rain came down and wet the dark grey asphalt driveway. I sat looking out the window enjoying the smell of the rain. It's been a while, it's been a while a while since I have sucked the serene smell into the depth of my lungs, since I have stepped up into the misty grey and allowed the cloud sifted rays from the sun to kiss my skin. Been while since the calm has drizzled itself down around me. Been a while. Been awhile.

Been a while since I have driven my car down my father's driveway, and sat in my room, looking out at the sea. Been a while since I have heard welcoming words, since my father welcomed me. Home. One day we would all live together in our Father's house, will there be one body too many? Will there be room for you? I know I have a room, you see.