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)