I do not belong here, among these
men and mutant machines of nauseating noises.
I am a child of the wilderness;
Born of riverbanks and ever-greens.
I know not the words to the songs these
city-dwellers sing, but of the songs
sung by cricket and frogs.
I am made of Earthen soil; not hardened
steel- of silence and solitude and stars-
not city lights, subways and illuminated office windows.

I do not belong here, yet I remain here.

A stranger in a strange land I long to be able
to call home but fear will never
truly settle into.

The riverbank regrets will never let go;
Until the tide consumes my soul and I
float down stream into the unknown.

Until then, I do not belong here, but
will remain here.

08/10/2013

Posted on 08/10/2013
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