Home…
What makes a home for you?
What is that you call a home?
Four walls, a floor, and a ceiling to top?
You could put some plants around,
some rugs and choicest furniture,
mementos and paintings to adorn your walls.
Does that make you feel at home?
Does that give you the sense of home coming
as you walk in at the end of the day?
Can you leave behind, at the door,
the toils and spoils of the day,
the mask that you wore,
the mask that wore you…
And breathe free?
I have tried to make home of spaces.
I have tried
to build a home with cozy little cushions,
and pretty potted plants,
beautiful trinkets, and pictures…
I have tried.
But I found myself most at home
with MY people.
People who did not judge me
by my failures or successes,
my thoughts and beliefs,
by the brand of clothes I wore
or the price tag on my accessories.
They were always there for me –
all heart and soul.
When I was down and beaten,
and dared not dream to fly,
they became my wings.
When I had not the courage
to face the world and the known,
they became my shield and my armor.
With them, I learnt to let go
of my masks and veils and guise.
Layer by layer, I learnt to see
the real, uncluttered me.
And now I don’t go looking out –
I´m making my home in me!