This is a question thrown in to provoke thought on where in terms of time and space does an ‘I’ belong.
From Judy’s photograph it is relational and links strongly to family and friends.
Where Are You From? Twist and turn like a paper kite on the eddy, Bullet head cutting through the breeze. Long streamers and acrobatics, Dive to earth and soar up with ease. A flash of blue, a glint of red As ariel Red Arrows meet their match. Wheeling here, dive bombing there, The ascent begins for lunch on the wing, Plunge and soar, a speck of liquid air. Harbinger of summer, watchful eyes Seek you out and sigh in relief. How many of your friends have perished On the journey, squadron leader in chief? Starved and exhausted, bantam swallow, Perching on the wire of your own aerodrome, Where are you from? Where is your African home? How you struggled to reach our shore? How you fought danger and woe. Tiny bird, most welcome migrant. But for others it is not always so.