Duration: 2:57

177 views

5

INVICTUS:
Written, performed and recorded by Christopher Bowles
A poem that started out as an alternatively titled (Why I Won't Quit Smoking), collection of bullet points; left to gather dust in the draft section since 2018; 'Invictus' has finally been developed and fleshed out over the course of September 2023.
It is the most recent of works Christopher has written, and has yet to be performed live. It explores the concept of habit, punishing oneself, and the anger in grief.

***

Invictus:

Another year, the same old two-step.
Realising there’s no card in your tell-tale hand.
No call.
No risk of my voice slipping back into my father tongue
To the bemusement of listening ears.
The bells of Bow no longer ring;
Or if they do, I no longer hear them.
Instead I watch myself get older.
See the new year roll in;
Open mouth kiss a fist of icing
Through a painted smile
And play pretend at being happy.

You see, I never cared much for birthdays.
You were born on Christmas Day,
So you never did either;
And they say that children often take after their parents.
Learned behaviour.
But you never smoked.
You were no stranger to other poisons;
A cider in the evening.
So I guess it was your own personal ritual.
And this is mine.

Paper, filter, tobacco, roll.
Lick, spark, light and breathe.
Feel the smoke in your mouth,
Inhale.
Feel the smoke in your throat.
Hold.
Feel the smoke in your lungs.
Exhale.
And watch it dance in the air.

I never cared much for Christmas.
You died on Christmas Eve,
So I guess you didn’t either.
They say children take after their parents.
Nature versus nurture.
But you never smoked.
So why can’t I quit smoking?
I remember how I started.
I remember how the clocks stopped
When you called.
And you never call.
So I guess on some level, I already knew what you wanted to say.
Naturally I fell apart.
Not because of the cancer,
Not because you had a year at best.
But because you kept it to yourself for eight months.
You wanted to say you weren’t being stubborn,
You wanted to say you weren’t scared,
You wanted to say you weren’t burying your head in the sand.
You wanted to say you were protecting me.
But what did you actually say, though?
‘I was a Drama Queen who would over-react.’

So of course, I over-reacted.
I went out and bought my first pouch of tobacco.
Clumsy fingers struggling to learn the steps.
But they dance like seasoned professionals now.
They’ve had a lot of practice.
They’ve honed their craft.
Because that’s what it is now.
Call it art, call it ritual, call it habit.
Call it a soothing security blanket.
I used to smoke only when I was stressed.
Until I didn’t.
I used to think it was a coping mechanism,
Until I didn’t.
It was a passing phase,
Until it wasn’t.

I want to say I’m scared.
I want to say I’m not punishing myself
For holding onto useless anger after seven years.
I want to say it isn’t a delicate need to torture myself.
I want to say I hate that wheeze at the back of my throat.
I want to say I don’t dream of one day getting cancer too
To know how it feels to walk in your shoes.
And I want to say I want to quit.
But I can’t.
I won’t.
Because they say children take after their parents.
Learned behaviour.
And I guess, even after all these years…
I’m still not ready to finish that lesson.