…and once we dreamt that we belonged.

They dragged you down
those small hearted men,
those spineless suburban servants
that hide behind desks and screens.
In the end there were no tears
your faded glory had made us cold
but somewhere deep within our souls
we knew we would never have another.
On your roads I dreamt my life
my hopes, my fears, my loves
you held me when there were no others.
From my room I watched a thousand moons
bring you into pale life,
outside drunken bards
would sing Odyssey’s and odes
adrift on your plains trying in vain to find a way home.
On crisp clear days the sheets would whip as the wind blew
and all the women whispered sacred female truths
that I could never know or hope to understand.
All that time you held us in your loving hands.
Our history was written on your pages,
My mother born in the family ward.
Years after she’d meet my father in the cinema,
My grandfathers and my grandmother,
My sister, my friends and my brothers
all our firsts were there
I thought our lasts would be too…
but now all that is left are empty buildings,
Ghosts and empty rooms.

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