Beneath illuminated skies

waning moon and starless blues,

I ponder of home. The blessed place

that humanity yearns for.

The end to a search when all

walls have your name scrawled

across them in invisible ink written

before your first breath was even taken.

And I wonder where my walls are?

Is home a place?

Or are my four walls an endless sky,

a turquoise ocean,

two arms holding me.

Is home a place or a person?

Never to this day have I have known of home,

no safe haven,

no comfort zone that was mine,

no four walls with my name scribbled

upon them in permanent ink.

I wonder if ‘home’ is a dream.

Karen Hayward ©2016 (Images and words)


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