Home.
A happy place for happenings,
A delightful presentation of my mind.
The daily preservation of the things I leave behind,
of the endless iterations of my soul.
My heart in quiet whispers, “Home.
I am
Home.
My retreat for you weary traveler,
A protected reservation for your peace.
Your constant observations of anxiety . . . allowed to cease.
Inhale. Exhale. Hold tight then release
your burdens for you know, “Home.
You are
Home.
A given space for All to be
Where men of sovereign nations wage their wars
Oil spills, deforestation, enraging Mother Nature as we drill down to her core
Yet reconciliation we know can only come
When it is seen by every person, we are
all together
Home.
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from writers in Poets and other communities.
Lately, I'm empty
Lately, I feel an emptiness inside of me that doesn’t make any sense. I was fine a week ago and now I’m numb to the pain that I’ve been carrying around. Numb to the idea of me existing. I wish I could go to a place where I can hear happy positive thoughts and surround myself with joy. The medication I’m on doesn’t seem to work anymore. I still feel pain from existing, why am I here anyways? Merely to exist. I don’t feel like I’m making any differences being here.
By Cerina Galvan4 days ago in Confessions
The Devil's Triangle
The sails ruffled in the breeze as we cruised along. The Sea Breeze was a mid-size catamaran that sailed out of Royal Naval Dockyard in Bermuda. We had booked this trip weeks in advance and were now looking at our Captain, Spike and two boat hands. Paddy and Wilson seemed like nice guys, joking around with the passengers and telling us some stories about Bermuda that only locals would know. Their island accents sounded almost British but they were pleasant to listen to.
By Barbara Gode Wiles4 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.