Return

By Meaghan McDonald

Let us return at once to the sunless lands of my lineage

Where mists control the ebb and flow

of my forgotten mother’s tongue

Through which I have learned to sing instead of speak,

Recitations of a prayer whispered through fault lines

Little grows here that is not smothered and stunted;

No golden sheaves of wheat nor listening ears of corn.

I wonder —

I did not grow from boy to man in this place

No willows whispered their secrets to the curve of my ear.

The same shadows stretch long from the trees

The same crows peck at the unfortunate seeds

And I, unchanged, lay myself down in the womb

of the earth

Remake me — right this time

Unravel the spool of my making

Weave me into the shape of a man, of a shawl,

of a shroud

A final embrace for the dead

Before they return

As I have

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Meaghan (they/them) spends their days briefing cases and researching niche legal issues, but finds a certain freedom in poetry and prose. In the space they carved out for creativity, they became fond of fantasy. This love for the fantastical has inspired them throughout their life, and carries their writing as constant as a heartbeat.