What song do we sing when the journey ends
and we find ourselves in another country
a wardrobe all wrong for the climate,
a language no one understands? Our names
are known to no one, our gestures inappropriate
in this culture. We are naked. Nervous.
The overwhelming welcome breaks our hearts.
Each smile a shocking surprise.
A minivan opens its obedient doors and we ride
like royalty to light-filled rooms, furnished for us.
We are told: This is your home.
If we knew the language
and had breath to speak it,
we would ask: Where is that river
at whose ban
ks we may fall to our knees
and weep?
Sarah Klassen (born 1932) Canada
Source: Kingdom Poets blog
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