In going home, expectations grew
to return to big skies
and a can-do attitude,
where children did not question origins,
where difference was celebrated,
and where people thought of other things
than what box you fit into.
It was not realized that
the demons of ignorance wore many different guises.
Wandering lost and searching for a voice
that was forgotten,
a tongue that was not spoken
for so many years.
We can not remember how the lilt went,
how the words fit together.
Will they do so again?