Land of Hope

It's one thing to see a place;
truly to see it, receive it, breathe it, know it...
But it's something else entirely, something so sacred, so special,
to be seen by that place;
to be received. to be nurtured. to be known. to be loved...
for this knowing is the truest sense of belonging - of being home.
my land of Hope was this for me - for fifteen years she supported, nurtured, accepted.
She offered the cool comfort of her soil to rest my hot bubbling mind,
She reassured when I pressed my back against her strong unyielding trunks
anchoring heart and worlds that were spinning and spiralling,
She soothed soul in the dancing flames of her fires burning away despairing darkness
She sang sweetly in early morning birdsong, a tuneful reminder of lightness in flight,
She was my patient companion when loneliness pierced, listening gently
through angry sobs and stomps of heart and boots, and for years
she illuminated paths with moonshine and starlight when way was lost...
But then the miners came.           to          s e   p    a r    a   t   e                Us...
yet this land of Hope will always be home as she will forever belong to a part of me,
and standing outside the now heavy bolted front gates, hand touches heart
at the sight of the once fragile gum saplings I planted now vibrantly bursting into life.
She has shown me resilience, and I know that I too, will forever remain a part of her...