Our blood sought belonging to place,
Home, safety, secure anchorage
While we, caged from freedom of roaming
Sit wings clipped in a foreign land
A locus of discontent,
In fixed dislocation
Outsiders in our own space
Familiar foreign maps furled tight
Leaving us lost, adrift, drifting
Forgotten ways with strange neighbours.
Pause, breathe, redraw
The heart-map of hearth
A microcosm of fractal beauty
Loosed in constrained freedom