Monday, June 3, 2013

My people

Dinner at the Bishop*s house last night with the Aurora Deanery.  Lovely.

I often envied those who spoke
My people,
As if I didn*t have any.
I am a mostly Caucasian mutt
Of an unidentified tribe.
We Christians talk of everyone
Being adopted into the family
My people
Meant particular blood
Flowing through veins
Pumped by
Particular hearts.
I often envied those who spoke
Their people
As if I had left home
So long ago
The roads
The footpaths
Were no longer traceable.
Last night I had dinner
My people.
I knew them in their words,
The way they spoke.
Like me,
They are all adopted anyway.
My People.

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