Where The Heart Is

Four plus walls, from where I might’ve temporarily hid away,

Under name and title of parents or of mine own,

A structure of brick and stone, or as they said, something made entirely out of love alone,

A place we were birthed — hospital to barn — or where we Rest In Peace, and loved ones placed tombstones…

Inquired broadly, was it a country, or land, to which I belonged?

Current state of mind, I wondered, or touchable, physical, state,

In the arms of lovers then, and lost, is where it resided for some,

Somewhere on this planet we call earth, or transcendent of constructed views of singular time and space…

Maybe it was where, or with whom, I was unconditionally accepted, home is where you’re loved, or where you’re thought about,

At least that’s what movies and media had taught,

Hell, Heaven, dirt, or wars, and distraught through minds and hearts,

In the end, I found a bit of home, and solace, in knowing for home was usually fought…