Hour 3: My Home is a Sanctuary

I rarely leave my home, these days, holding to familiar rooms and tending to my garden. I enjoy companionship of family as they go about their comings and goings. My home is a sanctuary, sheltering me from change.   I rarely leave my home, these…

Overtures

When I am lost, and far from all The home I call my home will call I remember my first view Of the home I always knew Walls and maps don’t mark this space It’s the people, not the place When I am lost, and…

Take It Easy

Taking it easy now No rushing for me Though I get it done And work better under pressure But what does that really say about me And why does it connect with the conversation that I had with my children Why is there so much…

Floors

Floor beneath my feet Tiny feet Vast floors.   I remember floors Beneath my little feet. Desert sands and picnics. Bare floors and kitchen sets. Stairs and tiny rooms. Staring down and groped.   I remember floors Bricked floor And badminton games. Grassy garden And…

Holiday

Warm glowing crackles from the stone hearth as the circle begins to grow. Murmuring voices gather into lilting laughter and stories of growing old. The davenport is getting seedy from generations of hands and bodies. Oils that have left behind their traces; ghosts of friends…

A homeless home

Home. I left a home I loved, too eager for adventure. I sought the nomadic life, hoping to find life’s secrets. I traveled the globe, crossed oceans, traversed the mountains. Without a place with deep deep roots- I was homeless. A house but no home….

Our Mother’s Home

We lay now Where we once stood, Firmly, grounded, The pride of our birthright Draped upon us like a cape, Where we,¬†Earth-bound,¬† Flightless beings, Desirous of glory, Waved our banners, Over every conquered land of our brethren, As if they were badges of honor, Erecting…

#18

There is no place like home. There is no place I call home. There are places I come from, there are places I’ve been to, there are places I’m going. There is a space I’m using, a place that’s mine for occupancy, but is it…

Knock.

Its rickety floors feel ten thousand years old, With rotted out door-frames all covered in mould, There’s weeds on the porch growing slowly inside, But I promise there’s no better place you can hide, Inside an old closet where clothes used to hang, You’re holding…