"within"

i used to think home was a place -

a sanctuary I could turn to,

or a warm embrace

from a man who I said I loved

but I barely knew.

or maybe home was here in 16H

with the greasy kitchen tiles on the floor

or the white project wall in which I felt caged

or it was rather the local drug dealers who

knew me on a first name basis and asked me how my day was every time I'd walk home from work outside the local bodega store.

i used to say my "second home" was my K-12 school

where, even though I never "fit in,"

my teachers never made me feel like

i was a fool:

it was a safe place for me to confess all my 2nd grade sins

like the time I stole that blue lipstick

from the Duane Reade store on 89th

because my first home showed me that, to your heart, like glue, lies can stick

and cheating and stealing just ain't ever right

but in my "second home" I was told that it's okay to be myself

no matter how differently I look from everyone else

or how differently I sound sometimes from my own self

when I used to code switch from my "White Girl" accent

to my Spanish Harlem, "Puerto Rican" slang

i think you can decipher from this poem that even though my father's passing I truly lament

calling any place or person my "home" is not really, at this point in time, my "thang."

instead my home is within myself,

because I never truly belonged anywhere else.

so where ever I go,

if i'm laughing, I feel at home.

and that's no joke.

if I feel at peace, then I am at home,

truth be told.

i hope when you read this,

you find your home inside yourself

and remember nobody can take YOU away from you

forget about the money -

let your health, happiness, and inner love be your

greatest WEALTH.