A Home Poem by RIC BASTASA

no matter what there is
always a place called home
at least you finally decide
to call it that way,
you have been away from
this home
for many years

those were the years of the
struggle of
what you are and what they think you are
which is the place
and this is not where
you want to die
you want to live somewhere else
though you do not really know
where
but it has always been a dream
of somewhere
a house by the river
a place where hills grown into
mountains
your hair turns white
and ankles ache and names become
haze and places become
smoky
you stop, right here, you declare
this is home
this moment when you do not
give yourself the right to choose anymore
it is here
right here
you place yourself like a backpack
and mark a spot with
your bamboo cane
and then
you claim the right to be here
your home
yourself.