PICTURES OF HOME
Somebody's shouting up at a mountain
Only my own words return.
Nobody's up there, it's a deception
When will I ever learn.
I'm alone here, with emptiness, eagles and snow
Unfriendliness chilling my body
And whispering pictures of home.
Wondering blindly how can they find me
Maybe they don't even know.
My body is shaking anticipating
The call of the black footed crow...
Here in this prison of my own making
Year after day I have grown.
Into a hero but there's no worship
Where have they hidden my