Nestled in the In Between

My home is amongst the clouds

Where stars litter the horizon like crackles of creation birthed from explosions and the harmonious diction from an idea come to light in your mind's eye.

My home transcends many places

It has a room in Love’s house

The beat of drums and splashes of waves licking a sandy beach in the middle of January off the coast of Gonave

My home is erected in the boundaries with a loving and stern guard that protects my inner temple

My home is amongst the trees that gave birth to me and watch over my every step. That feeds me and keeps me cool from the rays of the sun and the eyes of man who does not wish to understand me.

My home is in her eyes because when she looks at me it's as if I have shed my clothes, my skin and every untrue thing I’ve spoken about myself since my acquisition on this plane of existence.

My home exists within the creases of her laugh that tuck me in lovingly with understanding and patience.

My home dwells in between the lines of a well worn novel for sleepless nights and heartbreak that wrinkles and cracks my body.

My home is where those cracks go to be filled with the frothy understanding of someone who longed for my embrace despite my jagged edges.

My home is in warm plates made by even warmer hands and the softest of smiles especially when I don't think too much of myself.

My home is constructed in fortitude and on consistent steadiness and the reassurance of the phrase “I’m not going anywhere”. It's as warm as fresh dryer blankets in 40 degree weather with pouring rain. It says “you're safe here, go ahead and dream".

My home is ever changing.

It is change itself.

For a home is where you live and to cease change would be to die.

My home is life itself and I dwell within its many rooms.

In any room or many rooms because they all belong to me.

In my home, life.