These roots run deep.
Traversing beneath familiar hills,
beaches so beautiful my eyes can’t believe them
and sheep that always look half asleep.
Beneath memories made on grassy patches
and concrete floors under old fashioned carpets-
Their ancient pattern outdating me.
The longer I stay,
The stronger they get-
Wrapping themselves around place names,
Clinging to customs and old ways,
Burying words and memories deep into my soil.
And I wonder how far these roots can stretch,
If they will cope with being taken to foreign lands,
Feeling city dust rest on my nose and hands,
Or if the pangs of hiraeth will be too much to bear-
For I like to be here, but I’d also like to be there.
So I hope to find that these boughs can expand,
And I can sit on a branch in a foreign land
And feel the support of the roots beneath me-
New experiences allowing me to bounce gently
But never to fall and break my bond
With this tree I call my home.