Uprooted.

The land upon which you were born
The sky underneath which you existed
The space in between,
This is the world you know.
The location of your first rise
And your first fall.
Like the umbilical cord tying mother to child
Child to mother,
To the land, you are inextricably linked
By no created or imaginary means.
You are held by forces,
Gravity, pulling you closer,
Preventing you from projecting yourself
Outwards into the atmosphere,
Towards the sky,
To lose yourself.
The forces gain momentum,
Strengthening their hold over generations.
Like an ancient tree, you are deeply rooted,
Foraging for nutrients,
Following the cracks on the dry earth
like the canals along the palm of your hand.
The same canal flowed before and is soon to flow once more.

The winter oak,
Bare and crooked line the sides of the street,
The air is awake,
Oxygen and carbon dioxide whispering to one another,
Predicating a storm.
I walk step after step,
As uniform as the street lights,
One after another pervaded by an eternal grey,
A cloud is always forming.
I see palm trees.
On departure you leave pieces behind
To reassemble and reform upon return.

I walk through the city,
Through the monuments of a great and ruthless empire.
The buildings, sturdy and confident,
Speak to me in the Queen’s English,
They tell tales of an ocean of blood.
It was behind these marble walls,
The world was carved up,
Like a Christmas turkey,
Daddy receiving the biggest slice.
It was behind these walls
That the fate of my ancestors,
My fate,
Was decided.
Inside I see silhouettes,
Behind drawn curtains,
Economists, businessmen, ministers
Theorise,
Another nation dies.
I see a copy of the Times dangling out a ladies handbag,
More troops die.
The paved, once cobbled streets,
Red tributaries through which I wade,
Stretching from the city to the end of the world
If I were to follow them, I would fall off the edge.