This poem pulled me to it immediately. First as I read, it spoke to my heart. I wanted to copy it and keep it with me to read again and again … or simply have. Since then, I have found that the ways it resonates with me are diverse and the meaning keeps expanding with thoughts and feelings I cannot yet fully name. I will be eager to hear about your response to it, too.
The Lost Tribe
How long, how long must I regret?
I never found my people yet;
I go about, but cannot find
The blood-relations of the mind
Through my little sphere I range,
And though I wither do not change;
Must not change a jot, lest they
Should not know me on my way.
Sometimes I think when I am dead
They will come about my bed,
For my people well do know
When to come and when to go.
I know not why I am alone,
Nor where my wandering tribe is gone,
But be they few, or be they far,
Would I were where my people are!
― Ruth Pitter
Please remember that your comments are welcome. What you write may help me hone my own thinking about my lost tribes. I will have more to say about lost tribes soon. And once again and always I send love and blessings to you as you visit here …
Enid
Thank you! This one is a keeper. So profound…made me cry.
Dale Midgette Smith
Ahhh, Enid. Me, too.