Click here to hear the poet read his words:
back to Glasgow
as I walk the beaches
of the Côte d’Azur
or swim in the warmth
of the Mediterranean
my favourite of all seas
my thoughts still sometimes
surprise me by drifting
back to Glasgow
I write every day
and most stories are situated
in Medville in the here and now
but on occasion
I base a story on my early days
and my mind wanders
almost unbidden
back to Glasgow
so much of what I left behind
when I slid into exile
still lingers back there
so when I waken
in the frightened hours
and the darkness tears at me
it’s then that my heart aches
and begs that I journey
one last time
back to Glasgow
my life is part poetry
and part fiction
with only one certain truth
I never will
I never can go
back to Glasgow
Sound Bite Fiction 
Such a beautiful poem. I think we all have our Glasgow we can’t return to and you brought forth the feeling so fully in me it took a few minutes before I caught my breath.
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Thank you again, Bridget, it seems my current mood is catching yours too.
And breathe!
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Indeed, dear Lady, the Past lives inside us always.
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Wow… this resonates. ‘life part poetry and part fiction.’
Though I am situated now just a hop and skip from where I grew up, I lived ‘elsewhere’ and then traveled for over a decade. I loved that I could re-invent myself in a way for no one had to know me as the young girl they half pitied/ half admired, but didn’t bother to include. The girl from the family seemingly riddled with adversity, but with a clever mother who beat the odds. So in the new; I soaked up experiences, was present in the now…mountains, rivers, friends. Yet, my heart and head were strangely tethered to my place of roots. Now, I sort live between–a good thing? a bad thing? something in between?–tied to both places and people; belonging a bit to both perhaps.
Ha! This is the power of good writing… you read another person’s words and then have your own bit of reflection. Cheers and thanks for that.
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Thanks for sharing, Kate.
I’m honestly never sure if it’s places that draw us back, or people and memories.
But when my words prompt a reaction like yours then I’m happy, thank you.
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This is what a poet does.
You tell one story but touch the universal pain and longing of humanity.
Beautiful and sad.
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Thanks, Jenne, not sure how to respond to ‘universal pain and longing of humanity.’
I’m only a poet!
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