The Journey Home

And geometric shapes that compete

To define my form

Or haloed by the shady haze

That bounces off gray slabs

Wedged into damp tarmac

Where beautiful mosaics use to be

I cannot be forged by steel

Nor brick, nor glass nor slate

Or cemented into the frigid earth

Crouched over like some solitary tombstone

For I am positioned way above

Where branches grasp the air

To touch the rarity of sunlight

That seeks no invitation to shine

I feel still the mighty waves

The heavy waters that journeyed me here

And bridged near and distant lands

A memory, that guides me home.

Claudette Purville
Claudette is predominantly a visual artist who also likes to write. She is seduced by words; the way they capture a moment, an emotion or the very essence of life.

She teaches English language and literature to young people and is soon to run a series of art workshops for all. She currently spends her time with community artists, who like her, have a burning need to create.

She thanks you for casting your eyes upon her words.

instagram: @udettearts

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This poem was inspired through workshops delivered by curator Trisha McCauley’s ‘Hidden Sailors: Places and Spaces’ project for Bridging Histories supported by the Mayor of London.