Where will I reside
when I am called to glory?

With my father’s people?
I can hardly find that country church. 

With my mother’s kin?
It’s deep in a wood I’ve never seen. 

Or scatter my remains?
I could find a place, I suppose. 

Is my generation the first
to be so disconnected from place,
that success is measured 
by how far we moved away from home?

I think I will want to be visited by you,
so best to lay myself to rest
here.