My first home was the womb
Gentle hums of blood rushing
Comforting heart beating
Outside was turmoil
Shouting matches
Machine motors whirring
Inside, I was safe
Curled in the warm cocoon
Nourished with love and purpose
My childhood house
Yellow, creaky, full
Deep with memories
Home returned nightly
Falling asleep curled into my mother
Nuzzling her thigh as she read
Summer mornings were sweet
Cicadas welcomed the heat
Father caught one for us to fly on a thread
Older, home no longer is
No familiar heartbeat to fall asleep to
Only spirit to bring me cicada mornings
Now, home is me
Purpose driven keyboard smacking
Silence behind closed eyes
Now, home is us
Husband’s gentle snores
Morning kisses good-bye
Now, I am home
Sweet face curled into me
Heartbeat outside my body
Safe with mother and father
Trust in the familiar
One with the divine
That is home.
(originally written March 10, 2016 as part of Jeanetter LeBlanc’s writing course)
