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More than a decade
Years have taken away solid ground and home was taken away by time.
I fled county in hope for independence.
I found my messiah and he had sullied the holy water.
Promises of never leaving.
Praise him. Praise him. "There is no other way", you say.
You say this in so many words, few spoken with me.
Preachers only preach, never listen.
I hate you.
I fled the country, across the pond.
There you were, in all your colours- hope found.
Intense bond.
Poverty stricken, we fled this beautiful country.
This for me "moving up in the world", you say.
There I found my strength, but lost part humanity.
Am I now the corporate preacher?
I'm sorry.
I miss all the magpies and my father's coffee cup with smiles in the morning.
My solid ground.
