Exile

This used to be exile
Coffee, book and notepad
Sitting alone and anonymous
An outcast in my own land
Now I feel like its home again
Which of course it always was
That shimmering pool that rises
And spills joy from my eyes never strayed
But Ah! Exile is still a hard place
When you're there
No hope of home or hearth is visible
In those barren times
And you weep for your Jerusalem
Spirit of Grace springs eternal
Even in arid places - it doesnt leave
Though you might be left
Never realising it was there
Until it brings you home again