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Rated: E · Poetry · Personal · #1926253
This poem was inspired by the feeling of coming back home again.
Home to Hamilton



The rusting carcasses of the steel mills where the sweat of the ironworkers ran like the rushing waterfalls of the city line the shores. 

The north end neighbourhoods emerge out of the wasteland to expose their colourful, vibrant selves alive with the generations that call it home.

In the East development spreads like wild fire; closer and closer to the vineyards of Niagara. What was once a village has blossomed to encompass all levels of our region.

Escarpment divides and unites at the same time. 

The landscape has been altered. Where there were farms, we now have homes.  Where there were fields, we now have stores.  Where there were trees, we now have roads.

We question if the metamorphosis was necessary, yet we are drawn there with no remorse.

To the West where entrance was once exclusive, now embraces all cultures, ethnicities and ages to its mature tree lined streets.

Trails run through the city’s weakened wilderness.  They are arteries that lead to the heart of the city. 

Downtown. Avoided by some, cherished by others. 

At the waters edge the sailboats’ rigging clangs against the masts.
The breezes blow into the open doors of the galleries guiding the lovers of art. 
The smells of the multi cultural cooking fills the air.
The flow of people lead to the park in the core where those who want to be themselves can.

The vast contrast of steel mills and waterfalls, of industry and art, of academia and labour blend to become our home.





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