As when the birds come home again
at Winter's bitter end,
may I return to you in time,
my sweet, once great beleaguered land
and we may share our blessings then;
for I will bear a stronger heart
than that which brought and left me here
with soul neglected
searching for the sun;
though peace has yet to find me,
I, in tilling, seek to find it finally
there within the land
and from the land my soul be lifted up
to find you in the joy of it and peace
will come and take me home or in my place
I send the branches not yet sired
to grow upon the trunk of me
and stretch in mercy upward
stilling thunder in a caustic sky.
Remember me when I come home?
. . . when I would drink your lovely light
and it would see me grow?
. . . my heart to trust in love again.
Here, now, I search for grace
that I must carve a world that is my own
and thus my laughter greet the rain
and may our hardship be as folly
but for this I give my soul;
that you remember me when I come home.