Home but not Home

new one written over easter...a tad sentimental/nostalgic?

I should be somewhere

Far from here

Where the sky burns blue

Scorching the sand

This time of year it’s bliss

With the orange blossoms

Wafting on the warm air

And the sea salt stinging

 

In our little house

With the treasure chest of toys

And pictures still pinned to the wall

When we were young and free

 

On the farm, at night

You can see the constellations

That we used to name

And the wild dogs howling

Into the heavy night

 

The peeled paint of the shutters

On the cool stone veranda

The flickering light above

Creating shadows and shapes

The little seat

Under the olive tree

Where we’d drink sweet tea

Snapshots of a childhood

That I locked away

 

Sabratha was our playground

The headless statues

And the ghostly amphitheatre

I can still hear our footsteps

Echoing through the arches

Under the orange stone

 

I am both home but not home

Roaming the space between

Looking for a place to exist

 

So if I am a child of two worlds

Two countries, two cultures,

Where is it I belong?

Where is my home?

Reviews

[An owl on the moon]

This is beautifully expressed.. that longing for home... looking back across time through memories of what was seen and felt.. I have moved a lot in the last few years and could relate to the desire to find a place to truly call home again.. that place of belonging. You write so vividly!