Landed, my embarkation card

not filled in - Ich, Ni, San

I know my name, but suddenly

it’s not mine; I drop my pen: Get to the back of the line.

My face fit’s so they let me in

my stature small, body thin.

I spot you in arrivals; your cap

gives you away, we head towards the

station: Insistent, you kindly pay

Tenojii - Hirano - the neon lights

blur my vision, your anxiety hidden

by your perfect posture and form.

We talk until the early hours, I ask to take

a shower, there is only a tub: So snug, a pea in a pod

now in the hub of your home, having flown such a long way.

My bed is now a futon; I lay my head to rest

tomorrow is a new day, in the land of stillness

and Zen.

The sun beats down, we use umbrella, I want to burn

for my cheeks to turn a little red

‘We Japanese aim to please’ - show willing.

Gosh, this fish is so filling, I couldn’t eat another bite

plates pile up; like shelves in my stomach.

Now I’m fighting. My sensei inviting me to stretch some

More, I’m on the floor - endurance is the key

‘We Japanese, do not flee’

Now, it’s just you and me; you tell me how much you miss

England, how happy you were, we share a shortbread biscuit

and take another sip of tea.

By Belinda Johnston