Nowhere Home (Belonging)

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


Sometimes in my dreams

I can feel the cold stones

Of Callanish under my touch

The smell of the thatch at Gearrannan

The sharp breeze across the Minch

 

 

The peat moor stretching out

Across the horizon, down to the loch

The feeling of sharing a moment

In an abandoned croft house on Harris

Standing on Luskentyre beach

 

 

The wonder of Carloway Broch

Staring out over the Atlantic

Standing at the Butt of Lewis

From the flatlands to the high cliffs

The mountains rising in the distance

 

 

I put down roots where I am now

Bought furniture, not easily moved

To stop myself from packing a bag

And leaving for the Hebrides

Like I did when I was eighteen

 

 

Young and innocent back then

Life was freedom and promise

I'm older now, tied down here

But I'm consumed by memories of that time

Recently resurfaced

 

 

I feel that pull once again

Reminded of the time

When I lived in Stornoway

A house of outsiders -

Newcastle, Manchester, Liverpool

 

 

We sat talking into the night

Three strangers brought together

By a shared geography

We talked of the Island

How it would never feel like home

 

 

But we would return

One day

To the cities we were from

And that would no longer

Feel like home either.

 

 

I didn't understand at the time

I thought where I was from

Would always be my home

But ten years later,

I see clearly the truth in those words


Submitted: May 14, 2021

© Copyright 2021 BrendanRendering. All rights reserved.

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