Pieces en Concert -- Prelude, La Tromba, Air de
|Going home to a place you've never been,
To long-loved landscapes that you've never seen,
To where your soul was sculpted by a wind
Your parents' parents left still young behind.
How long do such ancestral memories last?
When, if ever, can the past be past?
You do not know, but only know right now
This place has gripped your heart like home somehow.
Your plane descends above green hills where once
Your people for millennia learned to dance
The dance you learned third hand, yet dancing still,
You land, weeping hard against your will.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon