Song of the Exiles

Oh green was the wood
And soft was the wind
On the day that we left you
Our fortune to find.

Then grey were the streets 
And hard was the wind
Where we drifted and faded
Like leaves in the greenwood

Our fever, our hunger, our anger
Our strong arm, our longing, our lonely
We left amidst dirty snow and the rock
Of the coulee, moaning the blues.

For lost were the willows
Vanished the birches
My darlings, so graceful
By the swift stained stream
Lost were the faces
Gone were the voices
Vanished the bodies
That could sing the old songs,
Dance the meanings.
Our work, our struggle, our worries
Our possessions, our illusions, our pride 
Are all that is left us here in the suburb
In the supermarket wheatfield, radio blaring pop.

The hope was a swindle
With nothing to show
The promise has faded, 
Ruined in the dirty snow.

So we look for our longing 
In the books full of names,
Parade in fake tartan, 
Try to cheat at the game.

But sweet was the greenwood
And sweet were the songs
On that day when we found you
Freed from old wrongs.

Author: Duncan MacNae

Exiled Gael, scion of the Dust Bowl, dweller within Divine Grace, admirer of mountains, I have made my peace with trout and the starlings. Looking for a river and healing trees. duncanmacduncan5@gmail.com View all posts by Duncan MacNae