Down corridors of Holmfirth High Ruth strides -
warrior for the underdogs, the strays who hide.
Walkmans adorned in webs of her art,
The Cure and The Smiths, the beats of her heart.
Ruth's Doc Martens, with personalised petals,
with thought and care, she designs them for others.
Her purple hair gleams as in the bathrooms she skips,
Miss Hammill's Geography, munching her crisps.
Reading Adrian Mitchell, she dreams of her crush,
but, of the dark haired Aaron, that’s all hush-hush.
In pubs where The Pogues sang their refrain,
inhaling amu-nitrate, the fun and the pain,
Ruth danced so hard to the musical base,
in every gig – she found her place.
After drinking too much, she broke down and cried,
depression was something she tried to hide.
The loss of a sister...before Ruth was born
echoes through childhood, her secret to mourn.
Ruth wonders if she’s taken another one’s place,
a void to be filled, an empty space.
Back in Geography they’re taught global warming,
Ruth talks low, how Aaron’s so charming.
Her first kiss, on tip toes, has her heart tumbling.
Now he wants more, and she’s willing but fumbling.
On the swings she rolls her very first joint
shared with a friend, she makes a good point.
“Action needs to be taken for anti-apartheid,”
her new-found fealty, she feels very inspired.
Her first demo, a tremor of change.
A snapshot of history, of voices that rage.
Excitedly she beams for The Communist News,
a touchstone for others, with nothing to lose!
Who’d not want to fight injustice? thought Ruth.
Who would give up on the search for the truth?
Ah, to the last year of High School, to being sixteen -
to a world where Ruth is searching and keen.
Life being lived with whole hearted compassion.
I wonder if Ruth still feels that same passion?
Ruth – the yoga enthusiast, festival seeker,
the ethical journalist, mindfulness teacher,
the diving instructor, the white water rafter,
the life coach, the bee keeper and intrepid forager.
All these episodes - they all came to make
the Ruth that her friends now all celebrate.
Now she goes forward with a certain pride.
Sixteen, not just a year, but a tide.
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