15/06/2026
At the start of 2026, we would like to share with you this poem, written especially for this week and read publicly for the first time last Saturday by the poet at the event in Worcester Cathedral. Really poignant. A big thank you to https://jayroseana.com/
Two Plastic Bags
I live in St Johns, in Worcester, not far from here,
I have a neighbour from another land,
escaped from one form of fear,
whom I sometimes see, and greet, and hear.
To hear and see, to know their courage in the little things.
In the communal kitchen, planning to survive,
cooking little meals for a week on a meagre little budget.
When once, amidst their own,
in lands that thrived, they roared like a lion.
I think courage is less like a lion
and more like the weight of carrying two carrier bags
through a strange new place in the changing rain and heat,
of a strangers’ street, tired feet, nobody to meet,
measuring life in bread not meat.
I think courage is one of those bags
cutting into tired fingers,
whilst the other is full of everything
you could not bear to leave behind.
I think courage is standing at the bus stop
trying to stay small,
to pronounce the name of a place
that will always feel borrowed,
and never quite feel like yours at all.
I think courage is making sure to smile at the cashier,
a cashier smile, practiced, whilst counting coins twice,
nodding along to a joke you only half understand
and yet are, quite often, the butt of.
But my neighbour came HERE,
with two carrier bags and a photograph.
Now she knows which days the bins go out,
and how to go out and separate red from green,
which streets shrink her the least, and
which homemade biscuits to bring when somebody shares
bad news or questionable views.
The newspapers talk about borders.
But most of our lives are built from small courage at smaller crossings.
The first step into a food bank.
The nervous knock on a new front door.
The first time someone remembers your name.
And says it correctly.
And perhaps courage is simply this:
to arrive as a stranger,
and keep planting
pieces of yourself
into unfamiliar soil,
trusting that one day
your two plastic bags will become bags for life
and someone will point at a map in the street
that reads “you are here”
and say your name
whilst calling the place
you rest your feet
your home.
by Jay Rose Ana
Worcestershire Poet Laureate 2026-27
poetry for the soul