The Home Within

I have lived in many houses

That have not felt like homes.

Standing within a fortress of drywall,

I have felt unsettled, unmoored,

Trapped inside a prison.

.

My home is not a house,

It is not a place you can enter.

My home is deep inside,

An inner sanctum built,

Brick by brick,

By my own creative hand.

.

My home is the space within

Where my mind is free to roam,

The stories I tell, the characters I create

Nestle side by side with each other.

My home is made of stars,

Trees bent into hallways,

Warm fires lighting on obsidian hearths,

Clouds wrapped around my shoulders.

.

I can be at home on a bus

Amid honking traffic, nauseating fumes,

Or stuck late at work, waiting for emails,

As I delve within to my secret hideaway.

It keeps me safe, keeps me sane,

Always there when I need it.

.

It’s never far,

It will never be sold or abandoned.

A home within myself,

A home I am never without.