Mother, I Am Home
Mother, I just wanted to let you know, that I am home, HERE.
This place, this land, this mud and rock. I am sitting here and I am home.
It took a while to feel this way, to finally settle and grow roots, to be grounded.
Flittery, flighting from place to place, I was restless, running. Afraid. No more.
I am sitting here in this place, this mud and this rock.
I see the church spire, glistening like an emerald in the sunshine.
It is on fire; I walk along these streets, past these strangers I don't know, going home.
I get my hands dirty, in my soil, my earth, my flowers and trees. This breeze blows for me; it rustles past my nose ever so gently like a whispered breath. It tells me I am home.
I walk along the hills and see the heather all burnt and savage.
I hear the robin chittering and playing in the morning, its red breast swollen with pride and belonging.
I feel and see the mist creeping along the valley, like a dirty old shawl, carelessly thrown around my shoulder, the sun is persevering through.
This cold is in my hands and feet, this cold is my warmth.
This grey is my sun.
I no longer cower and run from strangers yards and broken down sheds.
I no longer wait for a space in a room or sit alone on the bus.
I had to tell you this; I felt the need to let you know that I am finally HERE.
This is my place, this land, this mud and rock.