Time you are a fickle master.
Waiting, you slow down.
The hands on your army of clocks
Move at your command,
In half time.
When dread for an impending
Event is detected, you clap
Your hands and speed up.
You command and demand attention.
Every day, pushing me to obey,
Stealing precious hours from
The week, the month, my life.
You can’t be seen,
Except on the faces that surround me.
And the one in the mirror,
Where you recklessly carve lines and
Pull grey hairs from my scalp
Draping them across my head as
A daily reminder of your
Power.
This reminds me of the scene in (the film) Black Robe where the old Algonquin men sit inside a hut on rows of benches as if in a classroom facing the front and there on the table at the front, instead of a teacher, sits a clock. They stare silently at it. They wait impassively until at last the clock strikes the half hour – when a murmur of approval ripples around the room. But the moment that really inspires them to exclamations of wonder comes 30 minutes later when Captain Clock strikes the hour.
The older men appear to be spending their entire days in this manner in addicted admiration of this white man technology. While outside in the snow the pale-faced uniformed men stamp importantly about their business.
The name the old men give to the clock reflects their perception of the white man’s attitude to Time and the instrument that depicts it. Captain Clock. Commander. Dictator. Symbol of Conformism perhaps. And to some extent loss of Free Will.
And so too in this allegory Kerry makes me think about my attitude to Time. Perhaps I should try to be more flexible with my attitude to it. Perhaps Indonesian rubber-time has some merit. Certainly I should not let the Dictator Time impinge on or compromise those important periods of time I need to have with the important people in my life…….
It’s about time!