Emotions rush like speeding traffic.
In life we can be overwhelmed by havoc.
It can be somewhat tragic.
And we can forget the magic.
I say that to say this...
There was a boy, whom suffered a collision with a car.
And I apologise in advance for the self-indulgent bars.
I just want to show that you can go far.
And yes, his body still has scars.
He can walk and ever since that day he has counted his blessings attentively.
And tried to share love and compassion relentlessly.
You see in the flashing moments prior to the collision.
He jumped with an innocent childlike sentimentality of god in his vision.
The car struck at a point that the doctors said was a miracle angle.
The driver thought she was passing a church not a school.
That day has been for he an empowering fuel.
For six years he had blistering headaches.
The sun light burned, and his hips ached.
They still do and he have a lump on his skull too.
Its only noticeable to the barber.
Do not pity he, just sit, and read on with me.
There is rarely a week goes by that the sciatica doesn't plague him.
But it also vaguely reminds him that he is alive that he has strived and achieved small victories.
And not victim to vein trickeries.
After the collision he decided to be a paper boy.
He was only of a small size.
For a long time, he could only play in the forest the sunlight scorched his eyes.
He was too young and small, so they refused so he revealed his ploy.
He spoke something simple you see at school I was known as magician.
And I needed to execute the miracle in precision.
He exclaimed that everyone thinks I am fine and im sure in time...
I will be...
I need this job to make me strong.
And so, the Post office obliged and made him a paper boy.
Little he was so proud he announced it aloud.
And every Sunday he would astound.
He would lumber a pile of papers bigger than he on a cart along the ground.
And up the fine hills of Yorkshire.
Everyone thought he can't hack it he will surely retire.
Some days he passed out from the pain of pulling something that weighed the same.
The reverend would occasionally tend to he and beg him to stop.
There's a lot of ill words said about the men of the cloth.
But that man he was this little boys rock.
He begged him to stop.
Pulling that cart, then the boy reminded him god was in his heart.
If he believes now or not is not pertinent nor relevant.
The fact is it made he as strong as an ox or an elephant.
When he was merely a child.
After 6 years he was strong and bold.
Reverent to everything dear he had and what others had to hold.
The reason for this story is as I foretold.
To remind you that strength is acquired as we grow old.
He was several times faced with the opportunity to walk away from atrocities.
From homophobes bigots and racist monstrosities.
Yet he could not it was a gift to walk.
The day I speak of could have like many others left him laying in chalk.
One day faced with a crowd of racist marauders.
And behind he a man from across the border.
Laying on the floor in shock from the fear.
He walked towards them of course with rational fear.
He shouted them down away from the coloured man.
They started charging towards him and he could have run away!
But they didn't hunger for the flesh of a white boy so he had to stay.
He heckled them down and spoke words of peace.
Knowing as he walked towards them, he would end up six feet beneath.
As the gang of many men came hurtling towards him and his single comrade.
He looked back at the old coloured man on the floor in old age and dismay.
He growled and did say barbarians are coming this way.
He screeched I am from a town of peace no colour no creed.
I am ready to die and peace will be my deed.
The gang enraged some 50 or more.
Ready to drop him to the floor.
Shouting n word lover as they drew ever closer.
And no, that word is never kosher.
He commenced in the fight lashed one in the face they swarmed around him it was almost his final resting place.
Yet by the good grace gifted by destiny the police formed a shield around.
Kettled the barbarians and the one that he lashed hit the ground.
A goliath in size and to all their surprise.
The racist mob with hate and ignorance in their eyes.
Thinking it was the boy who had hit the floor and faced his demise.
Pummelled their leader till blood dripped from his eyes.
A racist bigot a woman beating chauvinistic beast.
I pity him the least.
The old coloured man still in shock off to the hospital he did pop.
He recovered healthy and alive.
Thankful for the fact he didn't die.
Later the teen returned to his 9 to 5
Happy that that women had once gone for that drive.
So that he would be strong in the face of those eyes.
Adversity brings strength and appreciation.
And adrenaline in the face of degradation.
Some children were playing outside the warehouse lot.
They were talking of the mystery hero that time has forgot.
How he saved a man of colour despite the chance to walk away.
Turns out this coloured man was a respected member of the community.
Kind and caring and of moral impunity.
He was loved by all colours including white.
That's why when he overhead the kids chatting that grandpapa was saved.
He was happy that he was hit by the car on that solem day.
And when the pain sets in even now.
Its not just the fact that he walks it's that he doesn't walk away.
Adversity makes you stronger in every single way.