Friend or Foe

Now that I have left my place,
Ventured into distant lands,
Disappeared without a trace,
Swallowed by the empty sands.

I find myself quite happy here,
A here so far from there,
But when old ghosts begin to near,
I find myself quite short of air.

Friends of old are foes reborn,
And so they have their place,
Ever hidden, scorn and thorn,
And yet they seem to know my face.