This poem first appeared in issue #18 of Like the Wind. Words by Stephen Howell – Illustration by Rob Flowers
HEY, IT’S ME.
You know the one.
The one that’s always top of mind.
For good or for bad. And there’s been
a lot of the latter.
Please understand, I’ve never done any of this on purpose.
None of it.
Do you think I like how we’ve ended up?
All the resentment. The bad-mouthing to your friends.
And constantly blaming me for all your mishaps and missed opportunities.
I wonder whether deep down inside, you know it was you that made me act this way?
Whether you realise you pushed me too far. Hurt me too many times.
To the point where I will never truly heal.
Never truly be gone of the pain.
Never truly forgive you.
Well, not like how you want me to forgive: without question or mention of the moments
we’ve struggled through.
Genuinely, I want to help. I want to be there for you.
To be supportive, reliable, strong.
Because when it’s good, it’s great. And I love that you’re always the first to admit it.
That’s what I love about you.
How you soldier on despite me. How you always find a way to cope. How you care for
me from time to time, even if it’s always too fleeting.
I know you love me.
I know you wish nothing more than for us to go on and on and on, until only burning
lungs can extinguish our flight.
Remember New York? Remember London? Or that weekend in Blenheim?
Remember when we first met at the bottom of the stairs? You jumped down the last three
and I jumped right into your life.
Where have the last 25 years gone?
And what for the next quarter-century? What do you want to do?
You dream of ever-long companionship, across any and every terrain we step foot in.
But you know I’ve never liked the woods. Or the beach. Or any of those unkempt ways
you always want to lead me down.
Do you believe places can be cursed for us?
I sincerely do.
Like a benevolent force is behind every loose footing. Moving the earth, adding moss
to a rock or moisture to a cobblestone, ready to force a slip of a foot and label us
a casualty yet again.
I see you looking at others in the street. Or in the park. I feel your pangs of jealousy
ripple through me with a searing brutal acceptance of something I’m simply not capable of.
And I know it kicks the most when you see those who have everything you want but do
nothing with it.
You want to be one of those living fast without a care for the consequences.
Those that do it every single day. You long for
what they have. I know you do.
I’ve heard your thoughts,
“Oh, why can’t I be like them?”
“Why can’t I have that?”
And that hurts more than a concrete floor.
But I am what I am.
Love me or hate me, I’m yours. And I’m not going anywhere for quite a while.
So please promise you’ll look after me.
Give me my space. Shelter me from harm. And listen when
I’m hurting.
Because that thing you call a niggle is agony for me.
Small steps. Sometimes literally. Mind the load. And watch the backpacks because that
extra weight is the straw on this proverbial camel.
I love a foam roller on the thigh. A bit of ice from time to time. And plenty of stretching,
whether you feel you need to or not, will make a world of difference to our relationship.
Do those things for me and I promise, I’ll do my best to do big things together.
Like a marathon.
Or at least another half.
With all my love,
My Left Knee
Stephen Howell is a London-based sports marketing creative director and avid triathlete. IG: @stevohow
Rob Flowers does illustration amongst other things, and ideally would like to live in a land of hamburger patches, milkshake volcanoes and Filet-o-Fish lakes. www.robflowers.co.uk IG: @hellorobflowers