Work Text:
Sometimes in my dreams
I can feel the cold stones
Of Callanish under my touch
The smell of the thatch at Gearrannan
The sharp breeze across the Minch
The peat moor stretching out
Across the horizon, down to the loch
The feeling of sharing a moment
In an abandoned croft house on Harris
Standing on Luskentyre beach
The wonder of Carloway Broch
Staring out over the Atlantic
Standing at the Butt of Lewis
From the flat lands to the high cliffs
The mountains rising in the distance
I put down roots where I am now
Bought furniture, not easily moved
To stop myself from packing a bag
And leaving for the Hebrides
Like I did when I was eighteen
Young and innocent back then
Life was freedom and promise
I'm older now, tied down here
But I'm consumed by memories of that time
Recently resurfaced
I feel that pull once again
Reminded of the time
When I lived in Stornoway
A house of outsiders -
Newcastle, Manchester, Liverpool
We sat talking into the night
Three strangers brought together
By a shared geography
We talked of the Island
How it would never feel like home
But we would return
One day
To the cities we were from
And that would no longer
Feel like home either.
I didn't understand at the time
I thought where I was from
Would always be my home
But ten years later,
I see clearly the truth in those words