The Measurement Of Where I Am

The Measurement Of Where I Am
by Paul McCann

Long of exile , short of breath
wondering how much time is left .
Minutes are like miles away

and yet I still hope and pray ,
for the day I hope to see ,
the place that is home to me .
Ten thousand miles , maybe more
from that green and blessed shore ,

to where the best people are and that is just oh so far .
A lifetime being away

and there’s so much I could say ,
but it wouldn’t change a thing .
So here is where I’m living.
I think of those hills and farms

and those who open their arms ,
to welcome all who come home .
How many seeds have been sewn

and how tall has the grass grown
in the fields that I’d once known .
Too far for me now to see

but deep in the heart of me ,
is the sound of a heartbeat ,
where sadness and gladness meet ,

to say hello once again