Despite all my efforts
to convince myself that “home”
was simply brick and cement,
Its skeletal frame covered by walls
with photos documenting years passed,
I thought myself the wandering type.
A nomadic gypsy
with beliefs in the saying that “home is where the heart is.”
Leaving bits of myself wherever my feet landed
and letting the wind carry me to my next destination.

A good number of years
have gone by.
I am no longer a child of the world.
I am simply searching for that certain place to plant roots,
to call some place “home”
once again.


3 thoughts on “home.

  1. I have come to believe that we have different homes at different times of our life but because we instinctively sense they are transitory, we keep looking for the next one hoping it will be the last one, the one of permanence. But that, like the holy grail, may be forever elusive. We may be destined to keep going from one temporary home to the next, feeling the holes in our life from the homes we’ve abandoned, dreaming of filling those empty spots with the next home we are lucky enough to stumble upon. But then again, I don’t think of home as just a place but as a place where there are the people we long to be with waiting for us with food on the table, an opened bottle of wine, music in the background, conversation just about to begin. And peace is there. And you just know if you close your eyes, you will sleep long and deep.


    1. This is pure poetry, Leonard. Yes, I think we all grow nostalgic for the permanence of having a place to rest our feet. As we get older and family dynamics shift and life gets the better of us, we flee to find the next best thing. But really, are we all just meant to be nomads at heart? Is it instinctual to always be on the move, much like our ancestors?


      1. For some it is. There are people, though, who are natural born nesters, as an old landlord of mine referred to my oldest friend, who is still living in that same apartment for now 35 years. He actually has only lived in 5 places his entire life. I, on the other hand, cannot remember all the places I’ve lived without doing a timeline, just as I can’t remember all the cars I’ve owned. Steve (my friend) only owned 3 cars in his entire life and one motorcycle. We are both on opposite ends of that human prototype, I think.


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