FebulousFebruary 2025: Lost and Found

Meeting myself 

Picture this:

A soggy Saturday afternoon, October, 

A child, my younger self, so young, 

in tortured ratty plaits,

Patched jeans tucked into muddy wellingtons 

Framed in a doorway like an advert for Persil

Smiling your delight

Cherish that

Back from a clay happy morning in the fields

Following the grumbling plough

Along arrow straight furrows

Teams of children and mothers – not yours!

Digging in the wet heavy Earth,

Gathering caked potatoes into dirty baskets.

Tattie picking we called it –

Savour the joy of small things child,

Remember that

Enjoy the mucky everydayness of 

Of working in the mud

with your village pals

calling and teasing, competing – 

The companionship of hard work

enjoy the dirty smear on your nose

And the mud on your hands

And the dampness of the Autumn air on your skin

Treasure that.

Enjoy what came before your world

Exploded into chaos

And your family split apart

Into separate tiny atoms

Never to be whole again

You will despair, and lose each other in the debris

But time will teach you how to find 

Each other once again

Remember that.

You were bold and brave

And troublesome

In those younger days 

It had to be you, they’d say,

And that is who you’ll stay

Fighting for what you care about,

Marching chanting singing your protest

Shoulder to shoulder –

There’s family in that

You’ll grieve and hold yourself tight inside

You’ll bury your face in many pillows

The terror of trusting will haunt your days

But you will rise again

I promise you…

You’ll be bold and brave

And troublesome again

And your chosen family 

Will love you for that

Just remember that alone 

Can be a healing place

A place to watch sparrows

And breathe the creamy scent

Of February blackthorn blossom

Alone can bring the quiet

That will give you back 

To yourself again

Hold onto that

Val Johnson                      Feb 2024

Herne Bay