Nostalgia and Déjà vu

There was a time when I was a child and as with most of us childhood felt more free, I often think he was more me than I am me now, I wrote in one of my poems that “Jesus called the children closer because He wanted to deal with real people”
Where we more real then, than what we are now?

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All photos were taken by. Mark, see his other work here:

https://www.instagram.com/offthewall63/

https://thexmarkings.wordpress.com/

There was a possibility of snow, and I was excited for having never experienced snow I went into my cupboard to prepare for the coming cold, what I saw was an old jacket (I somehow keep forgetting that I have it,) a jacket white as snow, a jacket of the past, this white old jacket was what I wore to primary school sixteen years ago.
The magic of this is that it still fits or I should rather say it fits me better than it did it, in some way.
I asked my mother to send photos of me in school dressed in this jacket stuck in time, and my mother sent me more photos (I look ridiculous, even dressed in silly outfits for school performances) and all these moments took me down memory lane, I started to feel nostalgia, and almost sad as if I was filled with promise and opportunity and asking myself did I do damage to this guy’s life, did I hurt him, this little fragile boy, what did I do to him, he looks at me and I do not see myself. I see wonder opportunity and a strange belief that things will work out.

A tiny wave of guilt came over me as if I was a father of this boy and I felt like I neglected him, forgot him, left him on some doorstep, sounds even silly while writing it but not less true, I felt angry for the moments I hurt him, made him experience unnecessary pain, and I wondered all the what-if scenarios.
I went for a walk with this jacket on and then I realized it more than before I fit in this jacket, this jacket that has all the promise of tomorrow all the ideas I had they did not die or get moldy no stains no damage still this pure jacket that fits me even better than it did then, that boy did not die, that boy that placed his hands the wrong way on group photos, the boy that was labeled a drama queen and prefect, that not so fragile boy who has scars on his toes kicking everything and who loves drama never died, not a scar not a blemish he lives in me, nostalgia turns to Déjà vu.
Not a hunger to live in the past, but this experience of the present never really becoming past, because God does not make expiry dates to the heart and soul, my poetry has not been taken away nor has the passion died out, I am still here.

”Has this been me all along I wonder?
Who was I, when I wore it?
Have I changed?
Or have I become
Am I or have I
Or like
The white jacket I was me all along”

A friend of mine told me while I was on trip nostalgia, it feels as if I was carrying the past like a ball and chain but your time is now.
Honestly, that was spot on I was for a moment caught in the past and wondering about the what-ifs but now I am more in the wonder of the time now, now is such a beautiful moment look how it never dies even now, now has not lost its beauty.
In the collection of photos there was a younger me dressed in all black ready for poetry, my ”Fight gear for poetry” and I like the photo because I often forget but poetry has never died, i don’t dress in black polo necks anymore, but poetry still lives and I still have the same love for it.

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I asked that same friend, amazing Mark to do a fun shoot of these past photos and it was magic how it all came together, how standing there I felt captured in this bubble, not chained but free to burst and be free for the time is now. a lot has changed over the sixteen years many things have been experienced good bad and all in between, my body, my hair, and fashion but the heart and soul love and passion will forever remain, who knows maybe I will dress in the polo necks again, but whatever I will wear I will always be that boy that loves.
Jesus called the children closer because we are always, the Father’s children, we will forever remain Loved children.

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Thank you for reading

Peace and Love.

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