Not the land of my father

the solitary bridge stands so ghostly,

over grey brown waters like two posts

a wrenching tide is halfway out

and grey shingle scars the shore

my heart leaps as I see land

my land

even shrouded by rain clouds

still lovely

not even giving a glance

to that of behind

I’m sure it’s greener

with the mountains stretching

lazily away in the distance

how fate, chance cast me here

I still do not understand

but no questioning why

the land sings to me

echoing, amplifying 

the voices of those that await me

and pray that I get there quicker

to see their faces

sleep in my own bed

to be home