Rolling stones
can gather no moss
and so,
much can be said
for stability,
for establishing roots,
having a sense of place,
spending generations at the old
homestead.
But sometimes the horizon
beckons
and another adventure calls
-caution is tossed to the wind.
And too often
( as in now)
migration and fleeing,
a seeking of refuge
becomes the day's
fare
politics, economics
being the great motivators.
And I recall
the story of a tower
at Babel,
a scattering of tongues,
of people...
And I think of nation's and borders
scatterings still-
of the earth beneath our feet
and rivers, oceans
crossed and re- crossed upteen times.
I know that sometimes
it's just an urge to get up and go,
to get moving,
to see what lies ahead,
over the next hill
but there is too, the hope
( the need really)
for greener pastures
and the misfortune of more of the same...
of being unwanted
and the ugliness in the words:
" go back from where you came."