I present "Musings on England from afar"
Musings on England from afar
A lyric in three parts
I
I doze across a bench in the midday sun,
And I ponder upon the garden around me.
The verdant green of the trees
And the flower beds flecked with a multitude of colours.
A beautiful sight to mine own eyes.
I hear birdsong - but birds I cannot name.
The scent of the last of the morning dew,
Carried on the gentle breeze, surprises me.
And a bird, red in plumage, sits by me.
It preens itself and I move to admire it
And its natural beauty and colours.
Yet my movements startle it and it flies,
Not unlike an autumn leaf when caught by a sudden gust.
I gaze in wonder at nature as it works
And I see honey bees buzzing from flower to flower
Striving to collect the golden treasure that lies deep within.
I also see the squirrels running amongst the trees,
They chirrup and squeak as they climb and jump and search.
And search for food, for sustenance, for their daily bread.
Yet still I still futility and how the lives the creatures are driven,
Driven only to survive and for what?
To continue their futile existence and create other instances of futile existence.
I marvel at the buildings around me,
At lonely houses within their own plots.
They lack definition and substance.
They lack natural community and unity
So unlike the housing of my childhood.
I sit outside in the summer light,
A feeling quite unknown to my pallid sin.
I stretch out and allow myself to relax
And bask in the warmth and glow of the midday sun.
I lie back and wait for the chilled breeze that never comes.
And I feel wistful for the weather I left behind.
I look around and examine my surroundings,
And now I look and I’m struck with the realisation that
These things seem so bizarre and alien to my mind.
II
Oh! How I miss the sound of gulls above
And the din of the busy streets of the land I used to know.
The land torn from me like one would an aging bandage.
How I miss you so.
The friends I worked so hard to gain,
The niches I worked so hard to craft.
Gone - like the scent of dew on the wind.
Gone - like a leaf caught by the sudden breeze.
The rain and constant cloud were viewed by many as misery
But to me they signified the boundaries to my British home.
They signified the roof and walls of my world.
Yes, I travelled far away from that place many, many times
But it was there to return to, there to comfort you.
I miss the skyline, familiar and comforting with its blues and greys.
It was so close by but now it is so very far away.
I miss the hilly horizon, distant and wistful with its greens and yellows.
The hills were so far but were there. They are now further still.
That land which was my home for much of my life
Is now but a memory, everlastingly bittersweet.
My life there seems so fleeting and brief,
Not unlike the life of the humble bee.
My work there seems so futile and unfulfilling
As is the life of the woodland squirrel.
My home, one in itself amongst others identical,
Now lies three thousand miles away,
And with it my childhood and past experiences.
For the body this is a trip rarely taken
But for the mind it is a mere blink of an eye away.
To not wake up to the sound of cars and lorries
And to not walk outside to the odour of diesel fumes, lingering in the air,
Is a sensation most foreign and unnerving.
Yet, now, I do not miss it.
The familiar grey and desaturated skyline is gone,
Replaced with brighter and more positive colours.
I no longer brace myself for chills whilst in the midday, summer sun.
As it is now bright and warm.
III
I emerge from my memories and I now see
The world around me in a different light,
As whilst it is still bizarre and alien,
It is also new and full of life - life waiting for exploration.
The colours here reflect the vibrancy and vigor of Life
Rather than the futility and inevitability of Death.
I see flowers and trees in my world,
Once dominated by brick and concrete.
And oh! It is a beauteous sight
To see life and nature before my eyes.
I hear birdsong and though I cannot name the birds,
I hear it clearly for the first time.
I can smell the morning dew drifting on the breeze towards me,
And I can admire the red bird who sits and flies free through my own eyes.
The nature that was once distant and vague on the far horizon
Is now close and distinct in my own environment.
I still see the tedious work of the honey bee,
But now instead of pity I feel admiration for its endurance in its task.
And I see the futility in the life of the squirrel,
But within that futility I also see freedom of life,
Freedom to run and climb throughout the forest trees unbound by urban sprawl.
And I look at the houses, individual within their plots,
And I realise that they possess qualities as individuals not as a whole.
Each house is unique and their unity comes from diversity.
Each inhabitant is of their own and their community comes from freedom,
Not from the necessity which used to be so familiar to me.
I no longer feel regret and sadness at the life that I left behind,
The friends I lost, the locations of memories distant.
But I feel hope and fulfilment at the thought of the future I can carve,
The friends I can find and the memories I can create.
And whilst I do still miss the bittersweet land I left behind,
I realise that Life is different here - more vibrant and apparent,
And that I will soon replace that missing piece with one different but one that still fits.
