Heart

Home is where the heart is
or home is where the art is
or home is where the clart is
what silences or sparks us.

Home is where the tide is
not always where the pride is
where the Nith or Ness or Clyde is
what joins us or divides us.

It’s maybe cooried under hills,
sanguine or smelly, mobbed by gulls
or loons & quines who loudly line
the vennels mapped into your mind,
coorse, beautiful, a dump, neurotic,
inspirational, chaotic,
startling, sterling, brash, internal,
uncaring, steely, hard, maternal,
sunny, dreich, awash with rain,
bombed, blitzed & built again,
shoreline, fields or schemes but posh in
parts, the Mannie, Minch, Galoshins,
food banks, bad roads, unemployment,
lies & flies in council ointments,
memories told while no-one listens,
memories burnished bright by distance,
memories sober or blootery
from Golspie to Dollar to Tillicoultry.

Home is what you’re given
not always what you live in
& a lot can be forgiven
if you’re not expecting heaven
or Dumfries.