My Home Is...
Gerrica King
I want to go home, but home to whom is what I don’t know.
Is there a person without a doubt that’s not down and out.
Home sweet home is no longer there and there’s nothing here to wear.
People get hurt and don’t understand why like I.
My home is in my heart. The place that I go to when it gets dark. Dark as in lonely with no one to hold me.
My home protects me from the rain. Not the liquid, but the pain that I feel when I’m not secure. When it rains it pours.
My home is my fortress of solitude. It welcomes me with open arms.
My home criticizes me, but it don’t judge me. It helps me collect the pieces of the puzzle called “life” and put it back together again.
My home shields me from danger and the bitter twisted ways of my enemies.
My home motivates me to be better. It gives me encouragement to keep going. It gives me accolades once I’ve succeeded.
My home sings a song that nobody else can hear. A song that helps me keep my sanity.
My home is at all of my public events, speaking, singing, dancing.
My home understands me when no one else does. It gives me hope to look forward and become one with my dreams and ambitions.
My home is my sanity, it keeps me going like the Energizer bunny.
My home is my cave when I want to hide from the dishonor I’ve brought upon myself.
My home is my best friend, it commends me when I’m right and gives me advice when I’m wrong.
My home is my sanctuary, where I pray to the most high God.
My home is my clinic, where I go to get healed.
My home is the long arms of a friend reassuring me that everything will be all right.
My home is a speech, because I too have a dream.
My home is my bed, it comforts me when I’m restless.
My home is my redemption, it helps me realize my mistakes and makes me correct them.
My home is my music, it takes me into a whole different world, and soothes my soul like a warm cup of tea.
My home is my state of mind, how I represent my culture, how I portray myself, how I live my life and how I adore my friends for their love, and my enemies for their hate.
My home is my heart, mind, body and soul, it will never discriminate but it will confiscate the negativity that no one appreciates.
A house is not a home. I’ve lived in an abundant amount of houses. It is just an infrastructure that holds material items and people.
Everybody says “home is where the heart is.”
Well if that’s true, my home is in all the hearts of whom my writing has touched. It is in all the people I have helped befriend, or have helped me.
My home is in me, my sanity, my friends, my family, my God, my community, my culture, and my future.
My home is me.
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