Recollection (Poetry)

It is in my memory somewhere —
that town I’ve never been
its streets mapped out
familiar with its smells — the noise
of all its walking talking populace —
the friends of friends of friends
that make it seem I would belong
if I could get there —
cross the decades and the sea
of blood-dreams — bridge the gap
of generations.

The lure is strong — the name
more than a name — the air
some sharp reminder carried —
always there on the edge of waking.
Impressions long laid down —
the strata of my ancestry and tongue
whistling a tune to tell my body
where I came from.

There is love in the mothering green hills —
the sense of homecoming
and forgiveness for straying
oh so far away...
the welcome of another lifetime waiting
                                 for me
in that town I’ve never been.