How the Heart Lies

A child, alone in their home learns,

Rather quickly,

To find sanctuary in the dark.

Creates symphonies from the shouts,

Shattered glass into wind chimes

that sing the songs of doubts.

A child, too young to understand

That home is more than a place of shadows,

More than a burial ground of memories laid to rest.

A child, the shovel as her sword,

striking into the earth every bitter word.

To find the path to the sun,

lonely as it be.

A child who learned that home

Is more than blood and water.

The water will race downstream,

wash the blood away.

People are temporary,

houses mere objects with the ability

to be struck down in the blink of an eye.

Home is not just where the heart lies, but how.

A heart filled with stormy skies will never know

An afternoon without rain.

A heart filled with demons and pain

Will never know heavenly peace.

A heart that cannot look within and

Beat within its own chest

Will never know Home,

For home is lost

When you lose yourself.