To be the landís,
To feel the rightness in every smell and sight and
Is my desire and my need.
Not to be rootless,
Torn and withered by day-to-day demands.
But I am still a stranger here,
Moved and moving, dislocated,
Never able to rest, to know, to nest.
Have I lost the eyes to see, to accept?
Can I come home again?
Can I achieve by will the feel of home
That once I knew by heart?
I shall look beyond the dust and locusts,
The sense of emptiness and change upon this present
I shall make them so a part of me
That I can slip by stealth into this landís
John I. Blair 1978
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