Returnee
For thirty years long I fled my fears
Until I was wax soft and white like moon
The fugitive only his own voice hears
His lips trembling swell the empty spoon
Shattering dusty teeth. O the exile
Has returned, now he is out of style.
I brought back no Oshawi gold
No meteorite tail in alphabet soup
Trailing my name, defining soul
As a horse broken with lariat and loop
And climbed the guango tree first
Trying to remember where I put my thirst.
Long love ago, long dream broken
Mother died and the distance in silence
Was truth in pain so plainly spoken
For only birth and death has no pretence
I love my country and it does not care
The eyes of clouds follow me and stare.
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