3 May 2012
The wind blew over moorland Swept the bleak November sky Wind chimes sang uncertainly The camp wait still and quiet. Men with suits and papers Soon we knew they'd come Without a shred of empathy To move my people on
At dawn a skylark rising from ethereal dew drenched field A home we could have made Now a home we have to leave.
Tired of their permissions to use what should be free Demoralised by voices telling me What I should be
What breaks me to remember I can't bear to forget The road goes on forever
But our time's not over yet..
Nomad • Opuss № I