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.