Today’s choice
Previous poems
Rachael Clyne
Homeland
And if a land loses its people and they
are exiled will a land feel their absence
will it dream of their calloused feet
on its warm skin will it grieve the touch
of hands familiar with the ways of its vines
when to pluck its fruits how to shape its earth
and stones into homes will it miss the sounds
of its language on their tongues
will the land remember them or cherish
their blood and bones that fed its soil
will the land resent the tread
of different feet or refuse to bear fruit
under new hands or will it flourish
and if the people keep the key to their homes
even if the doors they unlocked are now
a car park or the street demolished
will the keys sing them back despite bombs
or famine and if a people are uprooted
will they wander and yearn until longing
becomes their dwelling place will they
find shelter in other lands or will they flee
because people of other lands do not want them
and if after all the fleeing and wandering
the urge to return is unstoppable
will the land rejoice and welcome them back
will it cleave itself in two for the sake of all
will the people belong at last
will the land find peace
will the story
Rachael Clyne from Glastonbury, is widely published in journals. Her latest collection You’ll Never Be Anyone Else (Seren) covers themes of identity and otherness including, migrant heritage, LGBTQ relationships. @rachaelclyne.bsky.social
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Not the boring twin.
Not even benign.
This is a proper island:
rocks, foghorn, lighthouse.
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Dilys Wyndham Thomas
we walk through the exhibition hall lost
amongst water-logged bones, a sunk haul lost
Ruth Lexton
It is late at night and the kettle is boiling,
a quire of steam fanning out in the white kitchen
you are holding me as if I were your girl again
Stewart Carswell
It’s the house at the end.
White paint flakes off the front gate,
wood rots beneath.
Chris Kinsey
Hey cat, you’re doing really well,
three fields stalked and only one to go.