Home & my Heart

Mamma I’m coming home, is home truly where the heart is? In a day and age of nomadic necessity where does the heart live?? Is it your birthplace? Or is it with those you have shared your heart and inner most thoughts, fears, insecurities, and dreams? My heart is bicoastal and probably everywhere but here. My heart lies within those who have held it tenderly and firm.  And home is within oneself, where the heart is. Home is the stranger inside whom changes daily yet remains the same, my mirror, my stranger. The one who now loves me the most, my home? So many years it has taken to earn that love, to find it, ignored, lost, betrayed. Yet always home. If the image is peeled free from the mirror it becomes clearer. Life is to be a feast of adventure.  Today I felt the sand beneath my feat with those who have known me most of my life and I was home.  Wave caressing the shore, trees, sky, stars, voices. WE are free; paradox and possibility, old friends are we; fine intelligence and fools. We are alive and free. As we sat around our second fire of the day our minds wandered to self, God, Buddha. Communism capitalism my ink, our ink, disease, longing, loss & love, lost & found. Healing, cleansing, silence & sounds. Sense & Sensibility. Home is where the heart is on not necessarily the ground upon which we place it. <3