There is a place
Where only I have been
The old city
Where the wisdom of tradition lies
And freedom
From Africa, and the shadowed label I lived under
Where I ran to, from the stifling gut of the plane
The room of Richmond place
No nervous homecomings
Or raids
Just my room
And the peace of ice
Takeaway coffees
Real Christmas choirs
More my home than mine had been
A space in that place
To become.
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