My own

They call out to me…
They whisper into my soul…
The woods appear before my eyes
Inviting me ‘Come home’, they say
Its been too long now…

My step needs the soil of my mother
My eye needs the sight of the mountains
I need that air that has wafted from near my home
My soul needs to be cradled in the curves of my blue mountains…

I will be dead if I wait any longer to go back home
Its as if I am filled with holes now
Slowly disintegrating, craving to be with the soil of home
If not in body then in spirit, it is adamant.

I crave for you like a woman for her lover
It is a thirst that if not quenched will only wrench my self
It’s a dearth if not fulfilled will make my reality only a dream
Or still real, a nightmare…

Craving for a homeland that from paradise is now a little less
Not very different from the city i survive every day in
But its mine, unlike this city…
The faces that I look into are mine
The voices that melt into my soul are echoes of my own
And what ever I do, will be for the mother
Who resides in the stillness of the hills