Saudades

Why is our love imperfect,
music only echo of itself,
the light wrong?

We scratch in dust with sticks,
dying of homesickness
for when, where, what.

- Carol Ann Duffy

This poem is titled "Homesick" and talks of how, no matter how hard we try, we never manage to feel we are truly home. Could be depressing, but don't think it is - as we work hard to make wherever we are feel homely, we know it will never be perfect, and so we're more patient with the ways it falls short, knowing we have been promised a better place.

Went into Lisbon today to meet my cousin and her husband - once, when I was about nine, we had a year living in the same town, and I remember her as being my best friend, her and her brother, Stephen...

The monument in the background has to do with homesickness - it's the prow of a caravel, celebrating 500 years from when these ships used to sail from here to discover new worlds - all very well, but think of the saudades (longings)from those left behind...