---

∴

what magical door
could ope’ before me
and invite me back home
again?

do you remember, mama,
when sweet laughs came
from secret little chambers
therein?

is this such a tunnel-
this passage in middle years-
that narrows so tightly
you cannot turn?

are we robbed of
buried treasures,
shallow dug, in childhood’s yard,
in dented coffee tins
and twining yarn?

 

do you remember?

i cannot.

was there ever such a home?
was it all a fetal dream?

shadow puppets in empty rooms,
filling the imagination
to give them caring feature.

so too, the tunnel bends
and one cannot see ahead

where is the home
in our undetermined future?

·

she took my hand and said,

“there are no walls again.
there is no roof to hold you in.

there never was,

there never was,

home is what happens
and is never built.
for castles can crumble
and fortresses wilt
but the frame of your ethos
is ceaselessly stout.
and the only homeless
you’ll ever feel
is made
when keep your heart out.”

∴