This Is The Place Poem by Simon Foulkes

This is the place

This, this is the place
the place where I was
and now I come back to;

I was another person, lost, lonely
I return renewed
and alive. Yet also

a wheel turns, returning
and I come back
to myself, still

starting my journey.

Thank God for the long low hedges across vast fields
Irregular roads hemmed by standing waters
Routes of long-lost beaches, creeks, subdued
In layer on layer of tilth and mulch

Thank God for the elegy of wind and sky, trees and
Beach and low-haunched houses fighting
For their breath; for the hulking nuclear station, the
Wartime listening mirrors,200 feet of concrete

Thank God for the peace under the full moon, for
The distant rustle of wave on shingle, the slight
Threat always of inundation, the edgy tempor-
ariness of all of it, all of it,
it is here.

Yes, all here now in wife and home and children
settled and distant; and also all probationary,
held by faith in debt unpaid and jobs insecure. But –
it is here.

This, this is his place
the place where he always was
but I never knew him

he was always the same
carrying renewal
and life. Yet also

he turned onto himself
and found death
a place of purpose

starting our journey.