Home…where is it,
Everywhere, nowhere, our place of birth?
We can separate,
Travel far from where our roots were sown,
But those roots lie buried;
Dormant like the bear in winter
Only to sprout when we return some spring.
There is nothing like home!
We change, it changes
Yet beyond our differences we are the same.
Our blood flows red
Its earth flows brown, rich and enriching;
Drawing us back together
Like long lost brothers,
Like brothers who have never known each other,
Separated at birth then reunited as if never apart.
How strange it is this dichotomous relationship.
Tied together by eons, we deny our love,
Claiming separation while trapped in bondage.
Tell me…where is home?
It is in the filth, the change, the death of all we hold dear,
It is in what no one else can understand,
What flows through our veins, what feeds our souls,
What we will take to the grave when we die.
Home is who we are
Where we grew up no matter how distasteful,
A part of us, like our hearts and minds,
Something we will hate and cherish
Until our breath comes no more.
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
poem full of best content, reality and feelings
Thank you Sanjeet, your comment is very much appreciated. 🙂
Thank you Carol, I wrote this one a couple of weeks ago after going home for a few days. Being there brought back some good memories.