Sanctuary Poem by David Welch

The steel and glass reach to the sky,
the ground covered in man-made stone,
there are always people everywhere,
they scurry ‘bout while on their phones.
They call this place the ‘Big Apple, '
but there's not one such tree in sight,
and here it can be a really bad idea
to stay out too late at night.

I say no,
trying to find a way home,
I'm just a savage in Rome,
needing a place where man
can breathe free,
that's my sanctuary.
Seeing the steel towers gleam,
but not like a running stream,
needing a place
with no chains on me,
a cool, clean sanctuary.

The scrubby hills covered with homes,
vast halls that big actors inhabit.
The smog clings down in the valley
of a city where depravity's rabid.
A desert full of many millions,
all of them there with a dream,
unaware or uncaring of the true costs
of being part of that scene.

I say no,
trying to find a way home,
I'm just a savage in Rome,
needing a place where man
can breathe free,
that's my sanctuary.
Hollywood makes you wealthy,
if your comfortable on your knees,
needing a place
with more dignity
a cool, clean sanctuary.

The ridges rise and block the sun,
swift torrents carve through rock,
empty wilds give not a whit
about fashions, jobs, and clocks.
The trails, they wander endlessly
over raw dirt and bedrock tile,
nearby sits my house, tucked away,
my driveway a whole quarter mile.

I say whoa!
Finally found my way home,
here where a savage can roam,
deep in a place where man
still breathes free,
it's my sanctuary.
Here where the rough waters team,
with a backyard of evergreens,
this is the place
where those fools can't be,
my cool, clean sanctuary.