As I walk down the path of endless concrete blocks
My mind wonders to a time when it was just endless rolling hills
Sweeping across the golden dusk of a timeless time
That lay elegantly before my eyes
I realise: I am no city girl, no not a city girl.
Somehow I miss the smell of clean pollution-free air
The steep mountains looming high – a presence of authority
and yet a protective presence surrounding my very soul,
the pull of the beach, pulling me into its uterus as
the birds sing soft melodious tunes and
call my name: Hannah, Hannah, Hannah write for me
How can I write in this relentless concrete jungle of grey
Luring me into a place of deep unrest.
Oh Lord, how I miss the smell of freshly cut grass,
The sound of water crashing softly against cliff’s edge
The fresh smell of a rainy day unpolluted
With noise, except for the sweet sounds of birds chirping
Oh Lord, where has my muse gone?
Lord, help me to seek your presence, and know
Where Your feet will guide me to a place of
Sweet rest in this endless concrete jungle of grey
I am no city girl, this I know
I am a country girl, longing for the barren roads
Of emptiness and yet full of nature’s purity
This I call home, a place of sweet rest
I am no city girl, Lord I ask
Take me back to the folds of nature
Where I can write to my heart’s content.
Take me back to the countryside
Where I am at ease, I ask and pray.