Homebody

My home is here.

Right where my pen touches my fingers. That is where my art studio resides, it’s where I bring my sparks of inspiration to life.

My home is where my feet are tucked into my socks. After a long day of facing my fears and standing grounded in my own conviction. I have a warm blanket for my tired aching feet to come home to.

My home is in the swaying of my hips, because what’s a home without laughter, music, and dancing. Once I am tired my home is there for when I need to sit down and rest.

My home is in these veins of mine bringing life throughout my body. My home is this blood that runs through these veins, which also runs through my ancestors. It reminds me that I am never alone, in my home.

My home is decorated with these freckles that’s splattered across my face, like stars splattered across the sky. The stars that’s mapped out my life long before I was a thought in my parents mind.

My home is in my mind which runs wild with the wolves. When I’m chained to a desk at least my mind is unchained.

My home is my heart. The center of my love. The center that allows life to flow in and out of my veins to help my fingers draw…to keep my tired feet warm…to allow my hips to sway…to let my mind run free.

My home is this body that houses my soul. My body allows my soul to feel the hugs and to feel loved. My home is this body that cries when my soul is saddened by a loss of a loved one. My home is this body which is set on fire with passion to fight for injustices my soul just can’t stand by and watch.

This is my home which houses my soul, which stays young even when the bricks of my body start to break away. This body is my home. While my soul grows wiser my body has received scars which adds character just like the crack on a chimney.

My soul is a lover of life, even With every tear that rains and every wrinkle of wood. I know once I leave this body my home is still with me.