HOME
Be it a feild Of drying flowers. Be it a lake That no longer reflected the sky above. Be it a forest burned to the ground Only to give way to vast expanses Of blackened ground. Be it a roof that could no longer Shelter us from the burning sun. Be it a desert Where it rained till we were Awash with sand. Be it a road Where light only shined From the places we left behind. Be it a longing That tore the winds apart To seek the stillness within. This is my home.