The Return

Exile
Geraldine Mitchell Personal image

In her dream she was always walking towards

or into: the sea, the road, the lane, the haggard,

gate and yard, old house. She dreamt of open arms,

 

harbour walls held open to embrace, a five-bar gate

between stone pillars slowly opening. Dogs appeared,

they barked, glanced at one another, unsure yet

 

swirling in excitement, barking, barking, barking,

the way dogs bark arrival in every exile’s dream.

And she was always walking towards or into:

 

sea, road, lane, haggard, gate and yard, the narrow

kitchen door, a fresh loaf cooling, always,

faces turned and open. Always laughter.

 

©Geraldine Mitchell

First published in The North, Issue 61, January 2019

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