My people

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

I often envied those who spoke

Of

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

Anyway.

Still

My people

Meant particular blood

Flowing through veins

Pumped by

Particular hearts.

I often envied those who spoke

About

Their people

As if I had left home

So long ago

The roads

The footpaths

Were no longer traceable.

Still

Last night I had dinner

With

My people.

I knew them in their words,

The way they spoke.

Like me,

They are all adopted anyway.

My People.