Home Poem by Juan Olivarez

Home is a dim, half remembered thought,
Like a quest of old, by knights long sought.
That humanity, for an ideal, furiously fought.

Home only a dim and faded dream,
Like leaves carried rapidly by a stream.
That bring to mind, memories, so serene.

Home a place to finally rest my weary feet,
And under that old live oak, take a shady seat.
And at last, finally, once more feel complete.

Home is where my heart should be,
I hope it went there, when I set it free.
I pray that it's there, wating for me.

6/14/10 29 palms ca.