by

A Nation, Earth

I belong to no island,
With lines drawn across sea shores and thick forests.
Like the tree whose roots recognise no state lines or county boundaries,
My feet are the wings that carry this fragile bird over continents.
Go ask the swallow about freedom.
Dare question the great humpback over which swell of ocean they belong to.
These territories dissolve with each creature and every subversive border crossing.
Born of the earth we must honour its vast canvas with our wandering feet.
Bare skin to soil with no direction,
Just for a while and see where it takes you.
See no sign posts, states or street names,
And be unsure of the known lines you have crossed.
You can be certain of few names here,
This place defined by sense alone.
The ground on which you stand, the state.
Be held by this belonging to a nation, earth,
And move on with this place as your home.