Coming Home

‘Coming home’ I think you say, in English, ‘I will be coming home’, When you write a letter, or use the telephone, But surely that must also mean, that you were there before, With possessions and your Family, and a key for your front door. So, I cannot use these words; I am a Refugee. For complicated reasons, my home I had to flee, So now, no thought of ‘coming home’ applies; I turned my back, On all that was familiar. A home is what I lack. In your hearts, unknown to me, I seek your intercession, I travel forward hopefully, I need no more repression, Perhaps, when I’m accepted, I’ll recall days when forced to roam, And know then, safe and happy, I was really ‘coming home’. George Potter