29 years of Homelessness

Gun Towers and razor fences, count time and lockdown, a town within itself. This is where I lived for sixteen years but that was not my home. I had no home.

Imagine a child lost in the system of hopelessness. Not knowing where they will place him next. But yet like a lamb to the slaughter I followed without protest.

When I’m free, am I free? Free to do what? Free to go where? No home means no home to go home to.

Black child lost, child lost, lost.

until…

until I met my wife and my life changed. After 29 years of homelessness I now have a Home. See a Home is not the same as a dwelling. Nope. A dwelling is just a place of habitation. But a Home….that is different.

A Home is a place only the inner self can visit. It’s a place of true Peace. It’s the breath you take when you can finally relax. The place where you can laugh so hard tears fall from your eyes. Home. My wife is my Home because she make me feel all those things and then some.

I breath easier now that we are together. I haven’t laughed in years due to my former dwelling. Today my wife and I laugh about everything. And Peace, she is the living embodiment of Peace. Home. You know that saying “home is where the heart is”? It’s true, my heart is with my wife and my wife is my Home.