Men Go Out From The Places Where They Dwelled Poem by Nancy Byrd Turner

Men go out from the places where they dwelled,
They know not why not whither, overborne
At midnight by some awful word, foresworn
Between one dark and day, called and compelled.

So have they gone for ages in the gleam
Of many daybreaks, turning troubled eyes
For one last look at home beneath old skies —
Their birthright bartered for a nameless dream.

As Abraham saw dawn, remote and chill,
Etching old Ur along the lonely north,
And bowed himself to his loved earth, and rent
His garments, cried he could not go ... and went.