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Sue Johnson

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Chislehurst Caves

You don’t remember the dripping darkness
and the icy chill of the rocks
the lanterns we carried and the faint smell
of kerosene; the way sounds echoed
from places and people we couldn’t see.

You don’t remember how the guide told us
there was a town here in the war.
He showed us the pitch markings
on the white rock, the chapel
and the hospital hidden underground.

You don’t remember the layers of history;
how Romans, Saxons and Druids
peopled these tunnels. In the haunted cave
they took away the lanterns
and I felt a ghost breathe on me.

You don’t remember the spooky stories
the guide told us and how Auntie
was angry and told him not to frighten kids.
That night you had bad dreams and screamed
about the Druids following you.

Today I tell your daughter the stories
of the caves. She laughs at the idea of ghosts
and of you being frightened by Druids.
She laughs even louder when I tell her
it was a long time ago and you don’t remember.

 

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