You Own Nothing

Today's Lent poem is "Moments" by Margaret Atwood:

The moment when, after many years
of hard work and a long voyage
you stand in the centre of your room,
house, half-acre, square mile, island, country,
knowing at last how you got there,
and say, I own this,

is the same moment the trees unloose
their soft arms from around you,
the birds take back their language, the cliffs fissure and collapse,
the air moves back from you like a wave
and you can't breathe.

No, they whisper. You own nothing.
You were a visitor, time after time
climbing the hill, planting the flag, proclaiming.
We never belonged to you.
You never found us.
It was always the other way round.

A salutary reminder on this day of making this house "our own", so I've copied it in its entirety.

This is the guest room; getting ready for a flying visit from my sister and her husband at the weekend. Got Vitor and Bia coming for supper in a bit before the group in Cabeção.