Memory hurts – our hearts are stung
But sometimes I think the pain is for
Not a particular place but more
A special time – when we were young
For freer days when we knew hope
And what we felt we had was – scope.
I came here in the car
Looking on the land
And thinking about trees...
I have prayed – it is not my survival
Alone I pray for that would make no sense –
I am joined...