The Girl and The Sea

Upstairs a woman is blooming

But she wasn’t always

At 12, her home was torn asunder

The divorce years felt eternal

A week at each house for five years

On one side: senseless permissiveness

On the other: trading self esteem for belonging

A port in a storm-tossed sea, but one

That never fully accepted me

Boys and drinks and sex too soon: none helpful

My best friend Lucy also deluged

In the dissolution of her own home

Moving out at 20, whirlwind parties

Various friends and flats and countries

Always seeking, anxious, planning: ready

To pack up and move again

Never throwing away hold-all bags

Diving into other people

To fill the gnawing hole

Do I root? Do I bother?

But now at 28 I realise

The physical world's homes are limited

By the degree to which my mind is my home

No one can give it to me.

Are you solid inside?

Can you give yourself a loving hug?

Are all your younger selves, silly and learning

(As you still are), welcome and accepted?

Home is where I am

Home is where I’m cradled

Home is where I trust

Home is where I’m unconditionally welcomed

Home is where I smell the salt air

Hear the gulls and feel the sand

Smooth and soft and squidgy

As I wade in

Home is seeing the sun

From beneath breaking waves

Golden, green and blue, crystalline water

Mother earth caressing me

Home is a big sky above

A deep breath in the lungs

A solid restful sleep

And fresh hiking boots

Home is my velvet settee

A stack of books, cool breeze across my toes

My ceaselessly comfortable bed

And a steaming mug of tea

Home is where I’m maskless

Home is where I’m free