Home Is Where Poem by Annie Jane
Home Is Where
These bricks, this stone... this isn't my home.
The fire is here, and faces I know,
I live here, can't sleep here, it's here that I've grown,
But absent is heart: this isn't my home.
So locate the heart, and then I will rest.
Bones, arching fingers, which cradle, protect,
Are hiding and housing, and keep and collect.
My heart, so my home, can be found in your chest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 11:44:37 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Another spectauclar write. I would love if you would be so kind as to read my poetry and comment.