Native Ground

We have a river that led us to this place,
with our history of droughts and our swells of fertile spates.
One day I left exploring and I crossed the peaty burn.
Now, the river’s wider, faster, and I struggle to return.
I'm so weary
I could easily drown.
It feels like such a long time
since I walked our native ground.

Yesterday, I saw you stroll the other bank.
You laughed with a fair stranger and I felt like my heart sank.
Falling from my chest, I saw it tumble to the deep,
where the river bed is cold, way down where the twilight sleeps.
I'm so weary
I could easily drown.
It feels like such a long time
since I walked our native ground.

I have trekked the moorland and I've climbed on every ridge
trying to catch sight of a rickety, old bridge;
one I dared to traverse, when I risked that fall for you.
Now, if you found the crossing, could you find that courage, too?
because I'm so weary
and I could easily drown.
It feels like such a long time
since I walked our native ground.