Someone once asked me,
“What happens if home isn’t where your heart is?”
What if home is hurtful
or scary
or not very supportive?
What if you don’t have a home?
my answer is this:
the heart is not a concrete thing,
not just an organ in your chest
your heart is carried with you
to draw on when you need it,
and to share when others need you.
If home is not where your heart is,
then your heart is probably concealed somewhere
like maybe the sole of your shoe.
The end of the poem is like a slap on the face. And whatever the poem says about the heart, that shows a deep understanding. Good job!