A whisper inside betrays an illusion

Imputed identity fails to erase

New settings bring a certain confusion

I do not belong in this place

My mind wants to go home

Body reacting to novel, to new

Hiding from strange seed and spore

Protected stranger of blood and sinew

Haunted by memories of before

My bones want to go home

In me flows the blood of oppressors

Looking for a city on a hill

Now finding the saints as transgressors

Still touching the blood they did spill

My blood wants to go home

I want it all back—the ancient, the myths

I hear the Voice behind my ribs

My fingers itch to touch my megaliths

To feel history beyond the fibs

My heart wants to go home

If home is where heart is, mine isn’t here

It isn’t anywhere the Church is at rule

Holy men spoiled and ruled through fear

The Voice hushed by soldier and fool

My spirit wants to go home

From cypress and swamp, the little Voice calls

A brotherhood born of adversity

For the same Voice in me I hear from them all

Is silenced too in hopes of a city

May we all find our way home