roads leading home

roads leading home Beatrix Kinsman

You can smell it on the wind rippling across the weathered skin, the old bones of this long forgotten land

you

wander, a

stra nger across these

place

es yo

uo

n ce

k

new li

ke t

h

eb

ack

of y

ou r

hand

these tumble down houses and meandering hills hold far more weight than they ever used to

but they will never be as they were, as they will always be in memories

you were born here and one day if you are lucky you will die here

but There are bodies buried here

in the garden

painful and welcome firsts of all kinds, laid to rest beside a nettle patch

the you that returns here is no longer the you that was home here

and you are no longer tumbling, but free falling

this place is an abyss sinking further every day and still

you remain stalwart,

unyielding.

one day, this place will implode under its own hapless weight

will you still be here by then, I wonder?