When I can sit
and be quiet,
I am at home.
When I am with people
I love and enjoy,
I am at home.
When I have all of what I need
and some of what I want,
I am at home.
When I can walk
around naked,
I am at home.
When I can carry on
conversations with myself,
I am at home.
When I know the meaning
of the sounds around me,
I am at home.
When I can laugh or weep
without constraint,
I am at home.
When I can sleep a sound sleep
and wake up ready again,
I am at home.
When I know I can
die without fear,
I am at home.
Posts
2 comments:
Blues
Don’t remind me
What I have lost.
Childhood, family,
And love are the cost.
Who remembers me
As I need to be known?
This is the tragedy
Of surviving alone.
As a dutiful son
I’ve buried them all,
And homeless begun
To dread the long haul.
A poem endears
By sharing delight,
But if nobody hears
Why should I write?
[Disposable Poem May 22, 2011]
Dr. Mike
Dr. Mike: I'm listening (and reading).
H. K.
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