I saw trees
Spiked against a grey sky
In the distance
A horizon flat and even
I took in great gulps of air
And tried to belong
Under a muddy, grubby sky
In the glimpse of a full moon
I stood at a station
And told myself I could do this
When every moment was a struggle
I still went on
I gripped the greyness in my fist
And pulled it around me as I slept
I took that even line, and wore it
As a belt on my waist
I waited, I was patient
As I took stock
Of power lines
Skittered across an empty landscape
I listened to crumbled words
In the dawn in coffee shops
The stories of tradesmen
Who hesitated in my presence
I painted my nails in desperation
I gazed at the orange, the white
At the dazzle and the glitter
And I let it all seep in
Until the spirit of Essex
Was embedded in my soul
Not to replace my home
But to let me be here
And still be whole
