It is a long way from here,
but there is a map.

It is in another country,
but we have passports and visas,

and I speak the language.
The people are friendly,

or if not friendly, they know me
and they will not harm you.

There is no map,
but I know the way,

and even in bad weather, when roads
are sometimes impassable,

there are inexpensive inns
where we can spend the night.

The currency is strange there,
but these are my people,

and when you are among my people
you won’t need money,

they will take care of you,
they will treat you like family.

My family left the village long ago.
They are all dead now,
they died in wars no one
speaks of anymore,

but still the people there
remember them.

‘It’s you! they will say
when we get there.

We knew you would come.
Welcome home.’