I call it home

I call it home

I call it home

The very first time I remember walking up this hill
Was at my father's side, and I was small.
He was collecting twigs to graft a cherry-tree
We sat down on a tree-trunk, it was calm and still
Down there the town was humming, and the church bell's call
rang thin and vibrant, as he talked to me.

He said that many years ago his father took him there
And taught him all the names of hills and valleys
Showed him the houses, fields, and brooks,
The leaves and boles of chestnut, oak, and pear,
The secret paths, the lookout points, the hidden alleys,
And many other village-things you don't find in the books.

And every house down in the valley had a name
The names of schoolmates, their's and mine,
Of aunts and uncles, friends, and people you just know
He told the stories of our elder's toil and fame
And of the generations washed away by time
Like he once did, I listened, and I took it so.

"Your strength is in your arm, your skill is in your brains,
And you were given eyes and ears for learning,
The borders out there are for crossing, you will roam,
While all your heart can capture with your soul remains
Your curiosity will always keep you burning,
Your future is in motion, but your power is in home."

He died, I had to move ahead, and so I've done.
Life showed me places far beyond imagination.
On joyous ventures, or against my will,
My orders and ambitions kept me moving on.
I met some beauties, and some horrors of creation
But in my heart I kept my lesson on the hill.

I had to walk up there today, I don't know why
Now, that my beard has less black hairs than white,
And my live's book became a weighty tome.
So much has changed, but still below our heavy sky
Lies this old village in the autumn light,
And still there is the power, I still call it home.
---




Text: Siegen, 12.11.2007

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