Nomad

The Question of Belonging (2002)

Where is home? Where do I belong?
Is it a now faraway shore where the monkey puzzles grow,
And volcanoes rip the forget-me-not sky?

Or is it my birthplace? Rolling hills, thatched cottages, sleepy villages and country pubs?

Or maybe the concrete, smoke-filled city, where hopes were crushed, dreams pushed down, but where my flesh and blood reside?

Or here? Here where the Minster's ceiling goes up forever in spiralling, dizzying heights of stained-glass grandeur?

These disparate locales that so entrance the senses are as nothing to my true home,
The height of heights, my inheritance, the green foothills that I have never seen,
The cool palace flagstones that I have never walked upon,
The sweet scents of myrrh and honey flowing down from the throne of gold,
Mingled with the delicate flavours of spices from the east, that I have never tasted,
And yet I feel, deep within my soul,
This alone is home,
For here in this place that I have never been,
Sits enthroned my lover, my saviour and my king.